


Fumbling Toward Who We Are

by JayRain



Series: New Magic and Old Gods [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, M/M, Red Templars, Relationship(s), Romance, Slight Canon Divergence, Venatori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 122,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayRain/pseuds/JayRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the third son of the Trevelyan family, Theo was destined for the Chantry and had no say in it. The only child of a Tevinter Magister, Dorian relinquished a life of power and privilege to redeem his homeland. The Inquisition brings them together to save the world; but they're also fumbling toward something else, something neither thought to find in all the chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anywhere But Home

_Chapter 1: Anywhere But Home_

 

For the first time in his life, people actually listened to Theo when he spoke. It was at once gratifying and terrifying, because he was so unaccustomed to it. It was almost a relief when both the Chantry and the remaining Seekers not only refused to listen to him, but also all-out laughed in his face. It felt more like home, and he was easily the least dejected of anybody when they began the long trek back toward Ferelden.

“What are you smiling about?” Cassandra finally asked. The campfire accentuated the hard angles of her face, and the deep scar cut across her left cheek and jaw.

Theo poked the fire with a long stick and scooted back quickly when a log fell and sent up a shower of sparks. A few feet away Varric was chuckling. “It’s ironic,” Theo said. “I was expected to serve the Chantry, and now not even the Chantry wants anything to do with me.”

“Or any of us,” Varric pointed out. The dwarf took a swig from his flask. “Face it, no one expected an Inquisition out of all of this.”

Cassandra stared into the fire. “No, least of all me. But I am a Seeker of _Truth_ ,” she said. “That has to mean something. And if not to the rest of the order, then to _me_.”

Sometimes Theo wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or reassuring herself. Probably the latter, in this case. The Lord Seeker had sneered at Cassandra, had told her she had no right to call him by his title, and that the Inquisition was nothing short of heresy. Theo had half-expected her to agree, given the strength of her faith and conviction in her beliefs. But she’d clenched her jaw, jutted out her chin, and left Val Royeaux without a backward glance. Though she’d never declared herself the new Inquisition’s leader, Theo, Varric, and Solas followed her out of the city as if she were.

But as soon as they were out of the city’s gates Cassandra deferred back to Theo. “The Grand Enchanter said the rebel mages were meeting in Redcliffe,” she said, staring at him from across the fire, again secure in her conviction.

“And the templars were in… Therinfal or someplace like that,” Theo said. He rubbed his forehead. He’d spent his whole life sheltered in Ostwick; he’d never thought he’d go anywhere other than the nearest Chantry, and now he was trekking all over Thedas.

Varric handed over his flask. Theo accepted and took a swig. It burned going down, but it was welcome in the cold night air on the very edge of the Frostback Mountain pass. They’d hoped to cross the mountains before nightfall, but had stumbled upon a set of Fade Rifts. The fight left Theo exhausted, clutching his burning left hand to his chest and feeling dizzy. For their part Varric, Cassandra, and Solas, the elven mage, hadn’t escaped unscathed either. Camping seemed like the better option.

“Therinfal Redoubt is east of Redcliffe,” Cassandra said, reappearing and angling the unrolled map to see it better by the firelight.

“What would you do?” Theo asked her. In those first days she’d mistrusted him and watched him closely, as if expecting him to begin glowing green all over. Once Solas taught him the ability to close the Fade Rifts, she’d been better, and when he woke in Haven after sealing the biggest rift of them all, she’d completely trusted him. She was not a woman who trusted easily, and for that he respected and trusted her in return.

“This decision… it is not mine to make,” she said in a halting voice. She rested a hand on her sword hilt. “You are the Herald of Andraste,” she reminded him, as if he could forget with his hand glowing green and people demanding his attention every five minutes. “What choice you make, I will follow.”

“She wants you to go to the templars,” Varric muttered, watching her retreat to her tent.

Theo clenched his hand and shifted on the cold ground. “Of course she does. Where would you go?” he asked the dwarf.

“If I had a choice I’d go back to the Hanged Man in Kirkwall,” Varric said with a grin.

“You do have a choice though,” Theo said. _Unlike me._ His left palm seemed to pulse with vibrant light, though it didn’t hurt the way it had when he’d first woken in chains in the Haven dungeons. Sealing off the large rift had helped that much, anyway. “But seriously, Varric. Where do I go? What if I make the wrong choice?”

Varric chuckled, but stared into the fire instead of at Theo. “There’s a giant hole in the sky and it’s raining demons. I think the wrong choice is still better than no choice.” He looked around. “Have you seen Solas at all?”

“Given up calling him Baldy already?” Theo asked with a smile.

“I’ll come up with something eventually. I always do,” Varric said and took another swig. “Go rest. I’ll take first watch,” he offered. Theo tried to protest, remembering the vicious gash a demon had left on Varric’s arm, but the dwarf waved his hand and shook his head. “You’re the only one who can do that… thing that closes off the rifts,” he said. “I think it’s a better idea for you to be well-rested.”

Theo sighed, though inwardly he was relieved. “Thank you, Varric,” he said, and made for his tent.

He curled up in his bedroll and watched the firelight flicker on the wall of his tent. A stone dug into his back and he squirmed to get comfortable. He’d camped before, growing up in the forests outside of Ostwick when his uncles had taken him on hunting trips and he’d learned to shoot a bow. But it was always more comfortable than this.

But if he was still back in Ostwick, he’d probably have been shipped off to the Chantry by now. As the youngest son, when there was already an heir and a spare (as nobles in the Free Marches liked to joke), it was expected he and any sons after him would be given to the Chantry for religious service.

Whether he wanted it or not.

Theo had grown up without a voice, without a place, and without a future. Now, after one explosive moment, he had all three.

His father must be shitting himself.

He didn’t know whether to head to Redcliffe and speak with the Grand Enchanter, or to keep going east to meet with the remaining templars. But the thought of his father soiling his breeches over Theo’s sudden fame was enough to make him laugh softly and relax enough to get some rest.

He didn’t decide where to go the next day, nor the next. He just kept moving east, over the Frostbacks and into Ferelden’s Hinterlands until one night Cassandra could keep quiet no longer. “We must make a decision,” she snapped, pacing angrily about. By “we”, she clearly meant Theo, a fact that was not lost on him. “The countryside is tearing itself apart, between rogue templars and rebel apostates!”

Theo kicked at a clod of dirt. “I know. I was with you when we fought that last band, remember?” he said, a bit too acridly. Cassandra glared at him. “I’m trying to figure it out, Cassandra. Really,” he said a bit more gently. “I’m sorry?” he ventured, but she just muttered something unintelligible and stormed off.

“She is getting accustomed to her new role as well.” Theo looked up as Solas, the Elven apostate mage, glided up beside him. “The world as she knew it ended. She is trying to forge ahead, but it is a new world with new rules that she must learn.” He turned his blue eyes on Theo. “And what of you and your place in this world?”

Theo shrugged. “I’m just sort of fumbling along and hoping I don’t get myself or anyone else killed right now.” He sat down on a log and the mage joined him. “I suppose we should just go to Redcliffe, but… it feels wrong going there just because it’s the most convenient,” he confessed.

Solas stared out into the gathering dusk. “Both templars and mages are able to help us,” he said finally. “We need an immense concentration of magic to close the breach; either mages, with their magic, or templars, with their magical disruption training, can do it. I don’t see that it’s a problem choosing mages, simply because they are convenient.”

“Are you saying that because you’re biased?” Theo asked with a half-smile.

“I’m saying it because I’m practical,” Solas said. “The breach grows daily. Time is not exactly on our side,” he said, gazing up at the sky. The growing night was clear, though a pale green on the eastern horizon made them both uneasy. Theo stared at the mark on his hand, glowing the same shade of acidic green. “I support your choice, and I believe the Seeker will too. Her frustration stems from seeing no choice,” he explained.

“That makes sense,” Theo said. “I’m just not used to being asked what I think, let alone having to make a decision.”

Solas nodded. “That is understandable. But do not fall into complacency and let that be an excuse for you to avoid the difficult decisions you will have to make.” The elf stood and walked away, leaving Theo alone. Varric was off hunting; Maker only knew where Cassandra had disappeared to; and Solas had vanished as silently as he’d appeared. It gave Theo the time he needed to think over what the mage had told him.

Not for the first time did he feel a swell of resentment when he thought about how woefully underprepared he was to be making these sorts of decisions. Then he stopped. No, he wasn’t prepared, but could anybody ever be truly prepared for the end of the world? Then he tried to picture Matthias, his oldest brother, in his shoes and stifled a giggle. Matt would go running to their father for answers, letting Lord Trevelyan rule through him. Even Gavriel, the second Trevelyan son, wouldn’t truly be able to act without wondering what his father thought. Perhaps Theodane, the youngest, was best suited; he’d never had to worry about what his father thought. It had never mattered.

It never mattered that he’d taken to archery faster than anyone in his family, or that he made and fletched arrows that were of a better quality than those the fletcher in town sold. It didn’t matter that he was a quick study, or that other families had made offers of their daughters. No, the third son went to the Chantry, and that was it.

With a sigh he picked up a pile of sticks and began stripping the bark with his pocket knife. It was mindless and soothing work that allowed him to focus. What Solas had said was true. All they needed was power to close the breach. It didn’t matter where they got that power from. And time truly was not on their side. It was a miracle the world had not come crashing down upon them yet.

“Solas tells me you’ve made a decision?” Cassandra said. She stood at the edge of the ring of light cast by the camp fire. She didn’t apologize, but she did sound gentler.

Theo set down his stick. He looked forward to returning to Haven to forge some proper arrowheads. He ran a hand over his dark hair. “Did he now,” he said. Cassandra didn’t say anything, but he could tell from the clench of her jaw that it was taking great effort for her to hold back. “I’ve decided we should listen to what the mages have to say,” he said with a nod to punctuate his decision. The moment he said it his stomach flipped with nerves; now that he said it, it was true. If he went back and changed his mind he’d be seen as weak.

Cassandra bowed her head. “I will have word sent to Commander Cullen at once,” she said. She turned to leave, but stopped. “Theodane, if I seem to question you often it is not because I disrespect you,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “I have a lot to learn.”

She gave a smile. “As do I. I am accustomed to leading. Giving it up is not easy for me.”

He laughed. “So you can lead,” he said. “Please, by all means!”

She shook her head. “No. It is the same reason Cullen or Leliana cannot lead. We had roles before this. If we were to take on leadership, we look like opportunists for our cause. But you… you stepped out of the Fade, marked with magic though you are no mage. You are the Herald, chosen by Andraste herself.”

There it was again: Herald of Andraste. “I keep trying to tell you that I’m just Theo,” he insisted, but as always it was moot to argue. He sighed, but smiled at her. “I admire your faith, Cassandra,” he said. “I just hope it’s not misplaced.”

“So do I,” she said, but she was smiling.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” he called after her as she headed off to alert Cullen of Theo’s choice.

* * *

           

Theo rolled out of the way of a wispy green wraith as it lunged for him. “Little help here,” he called.

“Trying!” Varric fired his crossbow, Bianca, into an approaching demon. “Maybe you could try that fancy trick with your glowing hand?”

“I’d like to, but…” Theo grunted as another wraith knocked him down. Where had it come from? His keen hunter’s senses were usually good at seeing things and reacting quickly. But it was as if this one had come from nowhere. No matter how quickly he moved it still felt like he was underwater, sluggish and slow, while the demons and wraiths moved abnormally fast.

Cassandra kicked the wraith off of Theo and hacked at it with her sword while he rolled out of her way, narrowly missing her blade. Solas had thrown up an ice wall that kept another trio of demons at bay while Varric fired at them. Theo held up his left hand to the wavering wall of green above his head and concentrated on the tingle of energy racing from shoulder to palm. A thin line of light connected his hand to the rift. The demons screamed around him and the rift glowed more brightly. Theo gritted his teeth as the energy made his arm start to tremble, but he held the connection. Just when he thought he wouldn’t last any longer, light burst from his palm and twinkles of green rained down upon them.

“Maker’s hairy balls, what was that?” Varric asked, reaching behind him to hook Bianca onto the special harness he wore. He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “It was… not what we’ve been fighting,” he finished. He glanced at Solas. “You’re our Fade expert,” he said.

“So I am,” Solas said. But he was not smiling, just gazing at the spot in midair where the Fade Rift had been. “It was as if time had been distorted,” he said after a quiet moment while the others struggled to catch their breath. “Time has no bearing on the Fade itself. For it to affect denizens of the Fade so strongly…” He shook his head and began walking, headed toward the Redcliffe gate.

Theo recovered as many arrows as he could, and then jogged to catch up to Solas. The puzzle of this particular rift seemed to be occupying the elf’s thoughts. He got this way sometimes, and Theo had learned in the last few weeks that it was best to just let the elf think. He identified with neither Dalish clan nor city alienage, and also seemed to think on a plane not of this world.

The village smelled faintly of fish, testimony to Redcliffe’s recovered fishing and boating industry. It wasn’t the same as the salt air of the Ostwick coast, but it gave Theo a strange homesick feeling that surprised him. He was supposed to be _glad_ to be anywhere but home. He led his small band into the village, glancing around nervously. He’d never been around mages before, and now he was on their territory.

“Excuse me,” he finally said to a passing mage. “I’m looking for the Grand Enchanter.” The mage looked nervous. “I’m Theodane Trevelyan, with the Inquisition; she met me in Val Royeaux and asked to speak with me.” He tried to keep his voice steady and smile, trying to look at once relaxed but authoritative. It felt just like being at a party back home. Stand still, smile, look nice even though you don’t count. But here, now, he _did_ count. He had to act like it.

It was harder than it sounded.

“The Grand Enchanter doesn’t speak for the mages anymore,” the mage finally said with a nervous glance between Theo and Cassandra. “Though the Magister isn’t here, so I guess you could speak with Fiona…”

Theo ignored Cassandra’s whispered curses. “I’ll do that, thank you,” he said with a smile he wasn’t feeling. The only time he’d heard the world “Magister” had been in reference to Tevinter, the shadowy land to the north ruled by darkness and magic. Or so the Chantry taught. He followed the mage’s directions to the Gull and Lantern, Redcliffe’s tavern.

The interior was dim and dusky with pipe smoke and Theo coughed and waved away as much smoke as he could. The rumble of discussion died down as he stood in the open doorway with his companions fanning out on either side of him.

“See? It doesn’t only happen in books,” Varric muttered, nudging Cassandra, who just shook her head.

“I’m… looking for Grand Enchanter Fiona,” Theo announced.

Silence.

The mages in the tavern all looked at one another uncomfortably. “You should not be here,” one man said. He had wide eyes and a mark on his forehead. “The Magister does not approve of you or me, as we lack magic.” He was reasonable, but his voice was oddly flat and he kept staring at Theo and the others with no expression on his face.

“One of the Tranquil,” Cassandra whispered to Theo when he had no response but to stare back. “Pay him no mind.”

“I am Fiona,” called the Grand Enchanter, appearing around one of the wooden pillars. “Please, come in. But… who are you?” she asked, appearing puzzled. She was pleasant enough, but her brown eyes were narrowed.

“I’m Theodane Trevelyan, with Cassandra Pentaghast, Varric Tethras, and the mage Solas,” he said, returning her narrow-eyed look. “We met in Val Royeaux and you suggested we come discuss terms of an alliance.”

Fiona blinked, confused. She beckoned them to follow her to a table in the corner, near the blazing fireplace. They all sat. “I apologize,” she said, her voice low. “But unfortunately, I’ve never seen you before, let alone asked you to set up an alliance.”

“That’s funny, because it was definitely you we saw in Val Royeaux,” Varric said, leaning back in his chair. He’d put on what Theo could only assume was his business manner. He was disheveled from the time on the road fighting and spent sleeping in camps, but he was completely in his element here.

“I’ve been here in Redcliffe; I haven’t had the time to get to Val Royeaux,” Fiona said, irritated. She sighed. “I apologize though. You’ve wasted your time coming here. I’ve… pledged our services to Magister Alexius of Tevinter,” she confessed.

“Andraste’s _ass_ ,” Varric swore, the front legs of his chair thumping down again as he nearly lunged across the table. “I’m trying to think of a _worse_ thing you could have done, and I’ve got nothing!”

“We should have gone to the templars,” Cassandra muttered.

“We are indentured to the Magister,” Fiona said quietly. “I no longer have the authority to negotiate. You’ll have to speak with him.”

“You deserve better than slavery to Tevinter,” Solas said quietly. He looked sadder than Theo had ever seen him, and his shoulders sagged.

“That was… fast,” Theo said. Any one of his companions would have sworn on the Chant of Light, and by any number of the Maker’s body parts, that they’d spoken with Fiona only a little over a week ago. How did a Magister come all the way from the Imperium and secure Fiona’s promise in less time?

“We were desperate,” Fiona said and it looked like tears were brimming in her dark eyes.

“I guess so,” Theo said. He stood. “I’m going to rent us rooms,” he announced. “I think we’ll be in Redcliffe for some time, and I intend to be comfortable.” He would be damned if he went into a negotiation with a Magister after sleeping on rocks and roots for one more night.


	2. Before the Dawn

_Chapter 2: Before the Dawn_

 

“I can’t believe you’re here. You look…”

“Like complete shit, yes, I know,” Dorian said, running a hand over his hair and brushing something—dirt? Pollen? He didn’t know anymore—off his shoulder. “I’m still better looking than you,” he said with a grin.

“Not fair. I’m almost dead.” Felix’s eyes were shadowed and his cheeks hollow. There had been a time when such a statement would have sobered them both, but Felix was smiling at his old friend.

“ _Venhedis,_ ” Dorian said with a wave of his hand. “Since when was that any excuse, especially for one of our excellent breeding?”

Felix chuckled, but his brow wrinkled with pain as he did. He waved Dorian’s hand away. “It’s not an excuse. It’s just fact. But in all honesty, I’m glad you’re here.”

Dorian leaned against the wall of the dockside warehouse and crossed his arms over his chest. “You knew I’d come here. You knew we’d meet.”

Felix just shrugged one thin shoulder. “I had an idea. You were gone for two years; you didn’t see things come together the way I did.” Felix had a point. It was never easy for Dorian to admit that he didn’t have all the information, but in this case he had to defer to Felix and just be grateful his oldest friend had shared what he knew. “How long have you been in Ferelden?”

“Not long. A fortnight, maybe a few days more. I was camping on the edge of the wilderness when the sky decided to rip itself open,” Dorian said.

Felix snorted. “You? Camping?”

“You’d be quite surprised at the things I’ve learned to do,” Dorian said with an offhand smile. He felt a bit sad, because there truly were things Felix did not know. He’d not seen the things Dorian had in his travels: the homeless of Kirkwall, the desperate apostates of the Hinterlands. They were things Dorian himself had never expected to see in his life, but now that he had, he couldn’t ignore it.

Felix sat on a stack of weathered wooden crates, shoulders slumped and his eyes turned across the lake and up toward the faint green glow in the sky. “Were you here for that?” he asked. Dorian nodded. “What was it like?”

Dorian rubbed his temple. He’d had a slight headache since the Veil had torn. It had gotten a bit better in the last week or so, but there was still a throbbing in his mind. “It was… terrible,” he said at last. But that didn’t do it justice. It was worse than the one time he’d been severed from his ability to use his magic. “It was a bouquet of chaos and fear, with light overtones of anger and finishing notes of despair,” he said.

“You talk too much,” Felix said. “You always have.”

“I like the sound of my voice. It’s a lovely voice.” Felix smiled, but he looked troubled. Dorian sighed. “Does your father know I’m here?”

“Not yet. Not ever, if you don’t want him to know. I won’t tell him,” he said, gazing up at Dorian. It was an hour before dawn and still quite dark; Felix’s face was shadowed and it was impossible for Dorian to tell what he was thinking. “How have you managed to blend in here?” Felix asked after a long silence broken only by the water lapping at the dock pilings. “Blending in isn’t really you’re style.”

It was too true. Whether home in Tevinter, or in any of the various ports and cities he’d been to in the last couple of years, Dorian had never quite been able to help but stand out. “I blame the complete and utter chaos. It’s been very helpful to my cause.” He sat down on a crate next to Felix. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“To aid the rebel mages in _their_ cause?” Felix said, but Dorian kept staring at him. They’d been close as brothers when Dorian lived in Tevinter. Dorian still missed having someone so close to share with and confide in; it had been lonely growing up an only child in Tevinter’s highest social class, though such a situation was all too common among the carefully bred Altus echelon. Felix, also an only child, sighed. “Father insists that’s why we’re here. He met with the Grand Enchanter a couple days ago, just before the Inquisition got here.”

The Inquisition. The word had been thrown around Redcliffe and the Hinterlands over the last week and a half, and Dorian still had no idea what it meant. He assumed it was good, because refugees said the word with a smile, and camps with eager soldiers were beginning to spring up and take care of the bandits preying on the countryside. “You and your father made excellent timing from the Imperium,” he said carefully.

“We did,” Felix said, voice stiff even though he was smiling.

He didn’t have to say anything else. Dorian had grown up amongst Tevinter’s elite and could play the game better than any Orlesian with a full face mask on. Felix’s reflexive defensiveness was enough to tell him what Dorian had suspected since he’d received word that Felix and his father were in Redcliffe. “Well,” he said with affected cheeriness, “I’m glad we’re reunited, for the moment anyway. But Maker’s testicles. It’s cold here. You should go back to the castle.”

Felix shook his head. “I’d rather stay with you for a bit, if that’s alright?” he asked. He rose. “Father… he means well, but he’s not the man he was. I know he’s just trying to hold onto me, but I need some space. From him, that is,” he added quickly.

Dorian gripped his staff and began walking with Felix up toward the Chantry. He’d never been religious, but he knew that in the south the Chantry was supposed to be a refuge. They could both use that now, especially Felix, who was shivering. Dorian was chilled too; he was not accustomed to this southern weather, after spending all but the last few years of his life in Tevinter. But he wordlessly shed his own roughspun cloak and handed it to Felix. “Let’s warm you up, shall we?” he asked with a smile, though inside he was truly worried.

Felix accepted the cloak without a word and draped it over his shoulders. He walked slowly up the hill toward the Chantry, pausing every few steps to get his breath. “It should be fun trying… to get back up… to the castle,” he said with a grimace. “Why can’t I just die already? This has been going on for years.”

Dorian swallowed against the lump in his throat. He almost wished Felix _had_ died when he was gone; it would have made it easier on him. Now the world was teetering on the edge of a precipice and Felix was exhausted and weakened and still fighting on. He deserved rest. Dorian wordlessly rested a hand on Felix’s shoulder, and then Felix was hugging him, his thin arms wrapped around Dorian. “I missed you,” he said in a broken whisper. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think of what you were going through.”

“I’m glad we got to see each other once more,” Felix said, voice muffled by Dorian’s shoulder. He held the embrace a moment longer before pulling away, wiping his eyes. He managed a smile. “I should go back to the castle before Father realizes I’m gone. If he hasn’t already, that is.” He glanced at Dorian. “Do you still want to meet him?”

“Your father? I’d rather wait, given the circumstances of our parting,” he said with his usual confidence, though the thought of facing his former mentor made him queasier than he’d ever admit. “But the man with the hand, yes; if you can get him away long enough. If all else fails, I’m fascinated by the concept of a soporati who can command the Fade like that.”

Felix chuckled. “The world is going to shit and you’re still the academic.”

Dorian smiled. “Always.” They’d reached the door of the Chantry. Dorian reached for the knob but stopped. Felix watched him curiously. “It’s not right,” he murmured. He held a hand against the door and reached out with tiny tendrils of mana before pulling back. “Have him meet me at the Chantry as soon as he can.” Pale green light shone under the door, and the angry feelings of the Fade ripped open pulsed around them. “If nothing else, I have a feeling I will require his services.”

Felix nodded and left, casting a backward glance at Dorian. Dorian smiled and waved him off, as one might a child. His brows knitted together with concern. It was bad enough to have to see Felix wasting away like this, clinging to life the way his skin clung to his bones. But even more concerning were these rips in the fabric of reality. It was as if someone had sliced through reality with a jagged knife and the Fade was bleeding through. He’d encountered one or two since the massive magical explosion; he was easily able to defeat the demons that poured out into the world, but none of his magical abilities had any effect on the rip itself. Trying just exhausted mana reserves he’d been steadily draining over the last couple weeks.

And now one had broken through in the Redcliffe Chantry. The irony made him smile.

For the time being, things were as safe as they could be with demons skulking about in a village full of desperate mages. Most of the mages were just glad to be behind city walls and under the watch of guards. Dorian sniffed and wrinkled his nose as if he’d smelled something foul (which wouldn’t be out of the question in this fishing village). Southern mages were so used to being guarded that they couldn’t handle life without it. They’d tried, and the world was falling apart.

The atmosphere in Redcliffe was subdued as the sun rose and morning got on. The arrival of an actual Tevinter Magister had the rebels looking about with furtive gazes and talking in hushed whispers.

Dorian had cast a barrier over the Chantry doors to contain the spirits and demons climbing through the rift in the Fade. But he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up. He wasn’t sure if his magic levels were draining, or if the tear in the Fade was getting stronger. He sighed. His spirit magic had never been particularly strong, and he was tired of standing around endlessly waiting for something to happen.

Any one of these mages would have thought him crazy, but Dorian had been taught in Tevinter and had no fear of his magic, or that of the other world. He dropped the barrier and pulled open the door. Green light filled the Chantry. He closed his eyes and smiled as the feeling of the Fade washed over him, filling him with energy he’d not had in a long time. He flexed his fingers around his staff. He lived for this.

A demon lunged at him and Dorian sidestepped gracefully and pointed his staff. A burst of lightning crackled into the demon. But Dorian was already onto the next foes, a pair of wraiths with long claws capable of doing deep spirit damage. He slammed the butt of his staff on the floor and sent a trail of scorching flame at them; still holding his staff, he spun about to see the demon coming back toward him and he hit it with a ball of electricity from his palm.

Fighting with magic felt like dancing. The Fade was the music, and Dorian knew all the steps. The demons shrieked and roared and magic sang through his body and his mind. He didn’t even hear the door groan on its hinges, didn’t realize he’d been joined until an arrow whistled past him, hitting the demon that was approaching behind him more quickly than he could react.

It was not the arrow that annoyed him; it was the demons moving faster than he was. He was tired, but that was just unacceptable. He cast a static cage on a band of wraiths and turned toward the archer. “Thanks for that,” he said with a smile, breathing hard. Had he really been fighting so hard, so fast?

“Another one,” said the bald elf next to the archer, and a fresh barrier went up that gave Dorian a reprieve. “It’s the same time disturbance from the rift just outside of Redcliffe,” he said.

Dorian glanced at the archer and saw his left hand, which glowed the same green as the light in the rift overhead, clenched around the grip of his bow. His eyes widened and he grinned. “I believe I know what’s happened,” he said, and was irritated he’d not thought about it before. “My fellow mage, would you assist me against these Fade denizens while the young man does something about this?” he asked politely, jutting his chin toward the rift.

The elf was more suspicious than Dorian thought was proper, given the circumstances. _Even with his life on the line he’s suspicious of a Tevinter mage,_ he thought. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He swung his staff out in a wide arc that made the mage and the man with the glowing hand jump back in fear. Glowing golden light formed a dome over them. The advancing demons did not slow down so much as they finally started to move at a normal, less frenzied rate.

“Solas, help keep them off of me,” the archer said. “Please, just do it,” he snapped when the elf was hesitant. He did not wait to see if his command would be followed; he raised his hand up and seemed to connect with the rift in the Fade.

The demons went wild, but Solas’s barrier held and the ones that got around it were hit with a cone of cold that slowed them significantly. Dorian watched with fascination as the wavering sheet of green light twisted and writhed and suddenly exploded into nothing. The wraiths faded away and the demons sank into the floor with pitiful shrieks.

He’d never seen anything so magnificent.

“How does it work?” he asked, eyes wide. The archer stared at his palm. The glow had faded some. He kept taking a deep breath as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. Dorian chuckled. “You don’t even know, do you,” he said. “You just wiggle your fingers and poof!”

“Who are you?” the young man asked, cocking his head to the side.

 _Venhedis. Manners, Dorian,_ he thought. “Dorian of House Pavus of Tevinter,” he said with a bow. The elf swore and said something about not needing another Magister. Dorian rolled his eyes. “I’ll say this once. I’m a mage. I’m from Tevinter. But I do not, nor will I _ever_ serve in the Magisterium. I know you all think the terms are interchangeable, but they’re not,” he said, keeping his smile plastered on. It made him sound more pleasant than he was feeling. “And you must be the Herald of Blessed Andraste,” he said.

The Herald also rolled his eyes and gave a slight smile. He kept flexing his left hand as if there was still lingering magic tickling his palm. “I’m Theo Trevelyan; people seem to think Andraste saved me. But… the terms aren’t interchangeable,” he said, meeting Dorian’s gaze. He had pale skin with cheeks flushed from fighting; his chestnut hair fell into his light eyes and he had to impatiently push it away.

He didn’t want to, but Dorian smiled. A real smile. And Theo smiled back.

“Dorian, are you… of course. You’re fine.” Felix stood in the doorway, shadowed in the bright daylight. “Lord Theodane. I trust you’re well?”

Theodane? He smiled. “Yes, thank you Felix. I wondered when you’d arrive, but it seems we were able to contain this mess after all.”

Felix was helped to a pew by a harsh-looking woman with short, black hair and a dwarf with a very interesting crossbow. “Looks like that illness card you said you played was more than just a card,” the dwarf said, hand on Felix’s shoulder. “Varric Tethras. Novelist and unofficial Inqusition storyteller,” he said with a smile, shaking hands with Dorian. The woman hung back, her sharp features making her look cold and suspicious. Or perhaps she just was cold and suspicious. It would not surprise Dorian. “Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker,” Varric said, when she did not offer introduction.

“Pentaghast,” Dorian said, tapping his chin. “My mother had a friend named Pentaghast. Perhaps you know him?”

“We are a large clan,” she said in a begrudging voice. “I cannot hope to know all of my relatives, nor would I care to.”

“Well. So much for civility,” he said with a bright smile. He sat down next to Felix and the others pulled pews into a semicircle while Theo gathered his spent arrows. There was awkward silence and suddenly everyone was looking to him and Felix for answers. “Apparently there is a violent magic bent on unraveling the world as we know it,” he began, leaning back. Maker, he was tired.

“That sounds like a blurb on the back of a novel,” Varric said, sitting sideways on his pew and leaning back, crossbow in his lap.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose while Theo was trying to repress a grin. Dorian raised an eyebrow. “I’m reasonably certain Magister Alexius is only making it worse.”

Felix surreptitiously rested his hand on the bench near Dorian’s leg, just enough for him to feel his friend’s touch. _It’s okay,_ Felix seemed to say. _They need to know._ “What do you know about time travel?” he asked.

An hour later the Inquisition was on their way back to the Gull and Lantern with much to think about, leaving Felix and Dorian alone. “Are you alright with this?” Dorian asked Felix.

“My father’s not the man he was. He changed after you left, Dor. The world’s a wreck, and all he wants is to go back in time and change things, and he’s using the Venatori to do it.” He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “I sat around for years and did nothing. No more.”

Dorian nodded in understanding and got up. He paused at the door. “Take care of yourself, Felix. Try not to die,” he said with a smile, though his chest was tight and his eyes burned.

“There are worse things than death, Dorian,” Felix whispered as he watched him leave.


	3. A Strategy Against the Unknown

_Chapter 3: A Strategy Against the Unknown_

Theo had rented nearly the entire second floor of the Gull and Lantern. He could see Cassandra's eyes narrow when she saw the accommodations he'd acquired, but he also refused to leave the village and return to camp. "We need to be a presence here," he told her. "If we leave they can shut the village off to us and we'll never get back in. Did Scout Harding say how far out Cullen and Leliana were?" he asked.

"I assume they left Haven when I sent word that we'd chosen to go to Redcliffe," Cassandra said. "If that is the case they could be here as soon as tomorrow." Theo nodded. "Where is your new friend?" She tried to sound casual, but subtlety was not among Cassandra's gifts.

"Probably in his room. I'm not his nursemaid," Theo said just as casually, and braced himself for impact.

To her credit, Cassandra remained calm. "Do you think it wise trusting another Magister?" she asked.

"He says he's not a Magister," Theo said with a shrug. "Mage from Tevinter, yes, but not the same as a Magister. Besides, he held off that Fade rift for a long time before we arrived, _and_ he covered us while we finished it off."

"He knows Alexius. It could be a trap."

"Cassandra… everything's a trap," Theo said, rolling his eyes. "If we used the trap excuse every time we weren't sure of something, we probably wouldn't meet anyone or get anywhere. If you're worried I can ask him to leave," he said, though even as he did he was pretty sure he didn't mean it. There was something exciting about harboring not just a refugee mage—the countryside was swarming with those—but one from Tevinter.

Cassandra just shook her head. "The Maker can use anyone to do His work." They both silently added on, "even someone from Tevinter," which made Theo smirk. "I'll see to the security of the tavern," she said and took her leave. Theo understood that she always had the need to have something to do; she couldn't stay still for long.

Cassandra was gone; Varric was downstairs telling stories to whomever in the pub would listen (and probably gathering intelligence while he was at it); Solas had decided to go out into the village and talk to what mages he could. Theo supposed he was gathering intel in his own way as well, but that it was also academic interest that drove Solas on.

Theo was alone, and while he was a bit tired from the fight earlier, he was also interested. He'd never met a Tevinter before.

The hall was lit by dim and smoky lanterns. At Cassandra's urging they'd offered Dorian Pavus the room at the end, as far away from Theo's as possible in order to buy some time if the Tevinter decided to attack. Theo still had no idea how one person could be so suspicious; whenever he voiced that opinion though, Varric just shook his head. "If you knew half the shit she's seen, you'd be amazed she's not _more_ suspicious," the dwarf said.

Theo paused before the closed door, his hand poised over the door to rap on it, and he just stood there. What if he was bothering Dorian? What if he opened the door and saw blood magic at work? Would his credibility be completely destroyed? He sighed. So what if he saw any of those things? He didn't want to go through life questioning everyone and worrying over everything the way Cassandra did. He knocked.

It took a moment, but then he heard the sound of the door chain being undone and the door creaked open. Dorian stood in the doorway still fully dressed. His clothing was far more ornate and intricate than any other southern mage would wear, but also probably far more protective and effective. There were a lot of buckles and ties, and Theo absently wondered how long it took the mage to dress in the morning—assuming he ever undressed the night before.

He blushed without meaning to.

"Good evening," Dorian said with a smile. "I don't think I properly thanked you for offering your hospitality."

"It's the least I can do after the way you helped earlier," Theo said. He tried to will his blush away.

"And a little bribe to interest me in assisting you later on?" Dorian asked. But he was smiling, the expression quirking up one side of his curled mustache. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Probably," Theo said. He felt like Dorian could see right through him if he lied. "Did I bother you?"

"Not at all. I was enjoying having a proper roof over my head for the first time in months," Dorian said. "I've been away from home for quite some time. It's nice to not feel the need to be on my guard while sleeping."

"So you're comfortable here, even though we're Inquisition and you're Tevinter," Theo said, cocking his head to the side as he looked at Dorian.

Dorian's smile spread. "I think you'll find, if you give it enough time, that I'm not your typical Tevinter. That would be Magister Alexius." He opened the door wider. "Care to visit for a bit? I'll even leave the door open so your chaperones need not worry," he added with a teasing grin.

Theo's ears burned. "I don't have chaperones," he said, and to prove that he was in control, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked around, but there was only one chair to sit in, and a narrow bed. He stood awkwardly, suddenly unsure of what to do. Dorian was still smiling, looking more amused than Theo liked. "Tell me about the Magister," he said.

Dorian sat on the bed. "You met him," he said. "Why don't you tell me your impressions. And then I'll tell you where you're wrong, and why you'll need to be far more careful than you realize."

Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was aware of the warm tingle in his left hand and he stared at the green mark. "He wouldn't meet my eyes. He kept looking at my hand."

Dorian nodded knowingly. "Alexius was never good at hiding what he wanted," he said.

Theo sat down in the chair across from the mage. "How long have you known him?"

"A long time. He mentored me in Minrathous for many years. He had brilliant ideas for reform, and the capacity to take magical theory and make it reality." Dorian straightened up and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and began moving his hands in the air, as if weaving on an invisible loom.

Theo watched, mesmerized, as gossamer threads of magic seemed to spin out of the air between his fingers. He was too fascinated to be afraid. Dorian's lips were moving, though no sound came out. Suddenly he clapped his hands and flung his arms wide and the magic flew out of his grasp and all through the room. Theo jumped, nearly knocking over the chair while Dorian chuckled.

"Still afraid of the evil Tevinter mage, are we," he said, watching Theo with an intent gaze.

Theo righted himself in his chair and steadied his breathing. "No," he said. "I've never seen magic used like that before is all," he said, and it was true. In the few weeks since the Conclave explosion he'd seen the elemental spells and learned a bit about spirit magic from Solas, but little else.

"But you're not scared."

Theo made himself meet Dorian's steady gaze. He expected that his eyes would be dark; after all, he had wavy dark hair and warm, coppery toned skin. But his eyes were a light gray, framed by impossibly long lashes, and too difficult to read. "No," Theo said. What was one more challenge, after all? "And I don't think you're evil, either."

Dorian's mouth quirked in a grin and his mustache twitched. "Perhaps you should be afraid." He relaxed again. "I became a bit of a specialist in wards of privacy and silencing during my younger days. I've found they come in handy. The information I have for you cannot leave this tavern. Your advisors may need to know, but if it gets out into the village, forget the Inquisition. The world is done for."

He spoke of an impending apocalypse so casually that Theo wondered if he was joking. "What do you know?" he asked. His voice was low, nearly a whisper, even though Dorian had silenced the walls.

"I spoke of some of this in the Chantry, though not everything. Enough to convince your companions of the necessity of action." He fiddled with a buckle, which struck Theo as odd; Dorian did not seem like the type to fidget or fiddle. He was too self-assured. "Alexius and I were working on time magic when I was in Tevinter," Dorian continued. "The theory is complex; suffice to say, we were on the way. The spell I cast that put us on a level playing field with the demons is called Haste, and is part of the time manipulation Alexius taught me."

Theo blinked and shook his head. "People are afraid of magic as it is," he said. "Do you know what's going to happen if they realize mages can fuck with time? Like, for real, not just theoretically, like you were telling us earlier."

Dorian actually laughed. "You have quite a way with words. I hope you don't plan to go into politics or public speaking, Lord Trevelyan," Dorian teased.

Theo smiled and rubbed the back of his neck while his cheeks flushed crimson. "Just Theo, actually," he said, rolling his eyes. "Lord Trevelyan reminds me too much of my father. And I have a lot to learn. That's why I have Josephine, my diplomacy advisor, thankfully." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But tell me more about the time travel," he said instead of belabor the point. "How does it work?"

Theo was determined to learn and remained seated, waiting expectantly until Dorian just shook his head with a chuckle and launched into a lesson that would have been dizzying even if Theo was a mage. He theorized that time was like fabric that could be folded to bring points together, or separated; his graceful hands demonstrated with the threadbare coverlet on the bed. His eyes shone when he spoke, and Theo realized he'd never heard someone so passionate about something before. Even his family in Ostwick wasn't nearly this passionate about their faith. It was just something they did, rather than an inborn part of them the way magic was so clearly part of Dorian. And he wasn't cowed or afraid of it, or what it made him, either; not the way Theo had seen in many mages since all of this began.

Theo rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, which made Dorian wince. "I think I should go back to my room before Cassandra sends out a search team," he said. "She did that once before. Scared the deer I was hunting and we didn't eat very well that night," he added with a grin. "I'd rather that she not scare you away, too."

Dorian's right eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "I grew up in Tevinter, Theodane. I don't scare easily," he said. "And yes, that is a challenge." He rose and waved away the privacy spells so Theo could leave. "I bid you goodnight then. If possible, I'd like to be there when you speak with your spymaster and general. I don't trust you to get the explanations of the magic correct," he said, but he was grinning as he closed the door behind Theo.

Theo headed back to the room he was sharing with Varric. Varric was collapsed in the bed, fully clothed and snoring loudly, but he sat up quickly, a knife in his hand when the floor creaked under Theo's step. Theo held up his hands in peace, and the faint green glow cast eerie shadows in the room. "Just me," he said. _How long had he been gone?_ "Go back to sleep."

Varric rolled over. "Easier said than done knowing there's a crazy Magister in town who wants to kill us," he said. "But Harding stopped in and said Red and Curly would be here sometime tomorrow." He yawned. "Where were you, anyway? The Seeker was having a fit!"

Varric was as good at reading people as Leliana was, so there was no point trying. "I was talking with Dorian. The Tevinter mage. He let me in on a few things."

"Anything helpful?"

Theo shook his head. "A bit of insight into the Magister. He wants to talk to Leliana and Cullen with us." He stumbled about in the dark looking for his bedroll and trying to spread it out. He slipped off his shirt and balled it up into a makeshift pillow, then huddled into the camp blankets. "So yes, slightly helpful." Varric didn't reply, and soon Theo heard him snoring again. He sighed and tried to get comfortable on the hard floor. The only thing he regretted about spending so much time with Dorian was that Varric had returned before he did, and had claimed the bed.

* * *

It was like being back at Haven, only instead of a war table they had a rickety writing desk, and they were crowded around a diagram of Redcliffe Castle. "The Magister outplayed us," Cullen said, shaking his head. He had dark circles under his eyes that he insisted, upon Cassandra's worried inquiry, were due to riding through the night to meet up with them. "No force ever took Ferelden without having taken Redcliffe first. There's no way we can lay siege, especially not with the levels of magic that can be turned against us."

"And these are Venatori," Dorian said, entering the room. "They _will_ use blood magic and make sacrifices if they feel that it will accomplish their goals."

Within seconds Leliana had pinned Dorian to the wall and held a knife at his throat. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" she asked him in a low voice. The hand that held the knife was steady, but there was a dangerous gleam in her pale blue eyes.

Theo reached for her shoulder, but she suddenly had another knife in hand, pointed at him. "Leliana, this is Dorian Pavus. Yes, he's Tevinter, but he helped us close the rift in the Chantry yesterday, and gave me some insight into what we're really up against." She stared into Theo's eyes, weighing his words carefully before she sighed and sheathed her knives.

"It's been a long night for me as well. I apologize," she said to Dorian, who gave a cordial nod, but Theo noted the way he let his breath out and checked his throat for blood when the spymaster stepped away.

"Thank you for that introduction," Dorian said. "There are some things you should understand. Alexius is no mere Magister. He's Venatori, a Tevinter supremacy cult." The more he explained about the Venatori, the more of a chill crept up Theo's spine. He dropped his voice to briefly explain the time travel, certainly not in as much detail as he'd told Theo last night, but enough for Cassandra to swear and Cullen to dig the tip of his knife into the desk. Theo hoped the Inquisition had funds to replace it. At least Josephine wasn't here to make a big deal of it.

"A frontal assault will not work," Leliana said when Dorian had finished. "But if we send Theodane in—"

"Into an obvious trap?" Cassandra asked, eyes narrowed.

"If we send Theodane in," Leliana continued, "there is a secret passage from the old windmill that used to exist for the family. I remember using it during the Blight when Redcliffe was under attack," she explained. "We infiltrate the castle and take Alexius by surprise."

Cullen tapped his chin. "It could work," he said. "Though I'm hesitant to allow Theo to go in alone."

"I won't," Theo promised. "I'm taking Cassandra and Varric with me. If they'll consent, that is," he said quickly, but Varric nodded and Cassandra looked like she would have gone even if Theo hadn't volunteered her. She could be gruff and demanding; but she was loyal, and he was grateful. "I don't care what Alexius wants."

Dorian was watching him carefully, those gray eyes assessing him in a way that made him feel strangely pleased. "Lady Leliana, if you would consider," he began in that smooth and cultured voice that could probably sell oars to a Redcliffe boatman, "I studied with Alexius for many years. I know what he can do, and I've seen Venatori in action. Take me in with you, and let me assist."

Leliana nodded after a moment of thought. "I can't say I trust you entirely," she said, and Dorian shrugged like he was used to it. "But I admit you can give us an advantage, and that is what we need. Let's do it. Today."

Theo looked around the room. Leliana looked exhausted, but determined; Cullen the same. Cassandra was already strapping on her sword belt, and Varric was shrugging his thick leather coat on over his broad shoulders. The dwarf sauntered past them. "I hope you know what you're doing, Sparkler," he said, shaking his head.

"Sparkler?" Dorian asked Theo.

"He gives everyone nicknames," Theo said. Except him. Varric had tried anything from 'Trevvy' to 'Glowy', but nothing seemed to stick. They headed out into the hall. "Thank you for helping," he said after a moment.

Dorian kept walking, heading toward his room to collect his staff. "If we make it out, then you can thank me. And we'd better," he added with a little pout. He ran a hand through his wavy dark hair. "I _am_ too pretty to die, after all."


	4. Out of Time

_Chapter 4: Out of Time_

What _was_ the Ferelden obsession with canines? Nearly everywhere Dorian looked there were mosaics or frescoes featuring dogs; but those weren’t nearly as bad as the carved dog and wolf statues all over the place. The gilded carvings seemed garish against the dank gray stone, and the heavy red velvet drapery just seemed tacky. But his observations went unvoiced as Leliana, Left Hand of the Divine, led him through the corridors of the castle.

As expected they met with Venatori resistance. Leliana was quick, but spells born of blood magic were quicker, and it was only by casting a nullification charm that Dorian was able to neutralize some of the threat to where she could take them out with her shining daggers. “How do you know so much about this cult?” Leliana asked him, wiping off her blades on a hanging drape. Well. At least it would blend in.

“You needn’t sound so accusatory,” Dorian said, searching one of the bodies for anything useful. He found a vial of lyrium and pocketed it just in case. He’d trained his magic his whole life and had a firm grasp on his limits and how to use his spells so as not to drain himself needlessly, but there were always times when lyrium might come in useful. “Alexius mentored me. His Venatori friends often stopped by for dinner and sacrifices.” He was amazed at how light his tone could sound. “It was… horrifying, truly.”

“I.. I’m sorry,” Leliana said. She sighed and adjusted her hood. “These are suspicious times. I’ve seen the world come to the brink of destruction once before, so having it happen again on my watch is most trying.”

“I hadn’t stopped to consider that,” Dorian said, keeping his voice low as they continued on, up stairwells and through hallways. It got warmer and less musty, but it also meant more Venatori guards.

Haste would have been an excellent asset to their rather unfairly outnumbered fight, but Dorian did not dare use the time manipulation spell so near to Alexius; not when he was already manipulating temporal fields, and when he was in such proximity to them. Dorian cast a wall of flame that held most of the guards back; he picked off others with a mix of lightning and arcane bolts while Leliana fired arrows through the flame wall and took down others. She shot with certainty and finesse and Dorian caught himself wondering what Theo was like when he shot; after all, Dorian had been rather distracted during the battle in the Chantry.

“Why are the Venatori here?” Leliana asked, searching one body and recovering an arrow, which she wiped clean on the dead man’s robes. “Why come to Ferelden?”

“When your Circles fell the mages were without a leader,” Dorian said. “This created a vacuum of power. Tevinter culture is all about power: acquiring, utilizing, and the like. With enough mages at their disposal the Venatori can… do whatever Venatori do,” he said. It sounded lame even to him. “To be honest I’ve never quite been certain what the endgame of the Venatori is. Apparently they wish to become gods on earth.”

Leliana shook her head in disgust, but said nothing else as she led the way toward the great hall. She knelt to pick the lock on the antechamber door and slid through into the throne room, moving like liquid shadow. Dorian held his breath for a moment then followed her.

From his vantage point behind a pillar he could barely see Felix, pale and swaying but supporting himself with a hand on the throne. Dorian couldn’t see Alexius, but he heard that voice, smooth and cold as ice. “Your little Inquisition needs mages,” the Magister said. Dorian imagined his face had that look he got when he thought he was about to win a chess match. “What do you have to offer? Nothing?”

Dorian shuffled to the side to be able to get a better view. Theodane Trevelyan stood with Varric and Cassandra just slightly behind him. He had excellent posture, Dorian noticed; probably from his practice of archery. His back was straight, his shoulders back, and he looked relaxed—but at the same time ready to draw his bow. His cheeks were flushed and his chestnut hair flopped into his face, but he was giving Alexius a defiant stare. He clearly had no idea what to say, because Alexius’s assessment was correct.

Dorian cleared his throat and emerged from behind the pillar. His heart thudded; he had not seen his old mentor in years, not since he walked out in the middle of a Venatori ceremony. “Magister Alexius,” he said with a cold smile. “How good to see you again.”

Alexius stared for a moment as if seeing a ghost. Then he looked at Felix, and back to Dorian. “Ah, my old student,” he said at last in a smooth voice, but Dorian knew he’d shaken him. “What brings you to our little gathering? Do you wish to bargain as well?”

“I met with him, Father,” Felix said quietly. He was clutching the back of the throne, knuckles white with the effort of holding himself up. “I’ve also met with the Inquisition. They know all about the Venatori.”

Alexius paled. Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian noticed a Venatori guard crumple to the ground, then another, as Leliana worked with deadly speed and accuracy. Alexius’s nostrils flared and he scooted to the edge of the throne, tense as a bowstring. “Felix… what have you done?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Theo had one corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin. “Looks like your trap’s been sprung already. I hope you don’t mind?”

Well. He was a risk taker, Dorian would give him that much. Perhaps it helped that he did not know exactly what he was dealing with when it came to Alexius. “Felix only wants you to cease whatever you’re pursuing,” he said. “Go back to the Imperium,” he urged. “There’s nothing for you here, Alexius.”

There had been a time when he admired Alexius and had been proud to be a guest in his home; and not just any guest, but treated like his own son. Alexius had aspirations of greatness, all of which had faded as Felix’s illness progressed. Dorian beheld a hollow man, a shadow of his former mentor.

More Venatori guards started falling; the remaining ones drew swords. Ah, so soporati hoping to ingratiate themselves with their master then, Dorian realized. “Father, please, let’s just go home,” Felix said in a broken voice. He was barely holding himself together through the pain.

Alexius ignored Felix: a sure sign he was angry, or otherwise not in his right mind. He stood up and took a step toward Theo, who stood his ground. So he was a stupid risk taker then. Cassandra and Varric had drawn their weapons as Leliana stepped from the shadows, bearing two bloody daggers. “You,” he snarled at Theo. “You come here possessing a gift you do not even understand, asking for power you cannot comprehend, and that you do not deserve! You think you are in control, but you’re not. You’re nothing but a mistake!”

Theo did not flinch. He stared at Alexius with a cold glint in his light eyes. “Funny. You sounded an awful lot like my father right then,” he said. He held up his left hand and flashed his green glowing palm at Alexius. “One thing he didn’t realize is that sometimes mistakes can serve a purpose.”

“The Elder One has the power to raise the Imperium from its own ashes,” Alexius said, his shoulders heaving with his excited breaths. “And the Venatori will be his servants. Gods on earth.”

Felix rested a thin hand on his father’s shoulder. “Father, please. Give up. Let Fiona and her people go.”

Alexius spun around and grabbed Felix by the shoulders. “No. I’m doing all this for you, my son,” he said. “I set out to save you. I _will_ save you.” He reached under his robes and pulled out an amulet that pulsed with power at his touch. His lips moved with a strange language. Felix was begging him to stop, but he was too weak to physically stop his father.

Dorian felt as if the room was moving around him, warping and shifting and moving like a ship on the water, and he tried to keep from getting violently ill. Vibrant aquamarine light shone from the amulet. He felt a strange sensation as of being pulled backward by the neck of his robes. Theo was staring at him, his green eyes wide with fear and his palm glowing and crackling with Fade energy. Dorian didn’t think; he launched himself forward, grabbing a handful of Theo’s sleeve. He slammed his staff into the ground, channeling all his mana into disrupting Alexius’s spell.

_What have I done?_

 

* * *

 

 

His head was still spinning and he reached out for anything to hold onto, but there was nothing. Dorian fell to his knees in a pool of chill water and heaved until his stomach was empty and brain decided to obey. It was another moment before he could open his eyes again, and when he did, he wished he hadn’t.

Everything was glowing a violent red. The air was heavy and it almost hurt to breathe. The floor was covered in water. Theo stirred next to him, shaking his head to clear it. “What… what just happened?” he asked. He gazed around, brow deeply furrowed with worry. “Where are we?” He struggled to get to his feet, holding his head with one hand and wincing.

Dorian looked around. Aside from the water and the massive spikes of red crystals penetrating the walls and floors, he recognized this as part of the Redcliffe dungeon that he’d traversed only hours before. But then it had only been merely dank and stereotypically dungeonish. “This is… not quite what I’d expected,” he said, clearing his throat and making a face at the taste in his mouth. He looked around and reached out what mana he had left; it wasn’t much after what he’d expended. He felt the Fade, or what he assumed was the Fade; it felt like raw open magical wounds, or badly frayed fabric. “I’m not exactly sure ‘where’ is the right question,” he said at last. The possibility that Alexius had successfully replicated the magic was exciting, but fucking terrifying now that he saw the result. “I think we should ask ourselves _when_ are we.”

Theo’s eyes widened. “You mean we traveled through time?” Dorian nodded. “We have to go back,” he said. His voice was shaky. “What happens if we can’t go back?” He had been so confident last night… or how many nights ago? when they’d spoken in Dorian’s room. And just a moment… moments? ago when confronting Alexius. Now, in the violent red glow he looked young and terrified.

Dorian nodded once and steeled himself. “Simple. We find a way. And if not… we get comfortable in our new present.” It was not an idea he relished one bit. Dorian remembered some of the paths through the dungeon from when he’d come this way with Leliana, but they looked so different now. The red crystals seemed to hum a high, clear song that buzzed in his head and tried to warp his mana. It was all he could do to keep control of himself, and soon Theo was leading the way. He looked back every few paces to be certain Dorian was still there, and offered a sickly half-smile each time, as if glad to see that he wasn’t alone.

The dungeons were quiet but for their footfalls and the constant drip of water from the ceiling. Dorian wondered if Theo could hear the ringing in his head, or if as a mage he was just more susceptible to it. Theo stopped suddenly and drew his bow and an arrow from his quiver in one smooth motion. He stood so still Dorian thought he might be petrified.

Theo headed forward, but didn’t look back this time. Dorian found himself slightly fascinated by how easily Theo shifted into hunter mode. He moved as if stalking prey, hardly making a sound as he stepped, holding his bow with a nocked arrow, ready to draw if need be. He held up his hand and Dorian stopped, barely breathing. _I’m following an archer through a crystallized dungeon and doing everything he tells me, while barely knowing the man_ , he thought, and in spite of the terrible situation, he smiled.

They came to another block of cells and heard a chanted prayer. Theo ran forward in a sudden departure from his earlier caution. “Cassandra!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing off the dank stone. “What… happened?”

The Seeker gazed up at them. There was a red sheen to her skin and a redness glowing deep within her eyes. “But… how did you survive?” she asked rather than answer. She shook her head. “No. You are sent to torment me. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow,” she prayed, rocking back and forth.

Theo knelt down on the cold stone and reached through the bars to touch Cassandra’s shoulder with his marked hand. “Cassandra,” he said more gently. “I’m real. I’m from the past. We’re going to go back and make things right,” he said and squeezed her arm.

Cassandra grabbed his wrist, moving more quickly than her state suggested she could. Dorian instinctively pointed his staff at her, moving into casting position, but she just croaked out a guttural noise that was supposed to pass as a laugh. “You,” she snapped, still holding Theo’s wrist. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“What for?” Dorian asked. “My stunning looks or my charm? My innate talent? There are a number of things for which I might be proud,” he said in a stiff voice. Theo glanced up at him and subtly shook his head before looking back to Cassandra, who was now examining the mark on his hand. “I’m not proud of my former mentor sending us… when exactly are we?” he asked, and Cassandra gave him a strange look. He sighed and ran an impatient hand through his hair. “What’s the year?”

“9:42 Dragon,” she said.

Theo gave a nod of finality and picked Cassandra’s lock. “Right. We’re going back to 9:41 so we can try to make a better 9:42,” he said, helping her to her feet. She was weak and slumped into him, but he held her up until she got her footing. After a few paces she pushed away from Theo and held her own, and mentioned that Varric was in another cell nearby.

The dwarf was miserable, leaning against the wall of his cell and trying to braid pieces of moldy straw. He also glowed a strange red, and his expression of hope and sadness when he saw Theo and Cassandra was heartbreaking. “Seeker! And you brought Fletch and Sparkler.”

“Fletch?” Theo asked with a grin as he set to work on the lock. “When did you give me a nickname?”

“When I thought it was too late,” Varric said. “You vanished. I wound up down here thinking about all the things I’d never do, and tell you I’d thought of a nickname was one of them. It’s a silly thing, but still pretty fucking depressing.” He struggled to his feet, pushing away Theo’s offer of help. “They got Red, too,” he said.

“Speaking of red…” Theo began.

Varric laughed. It had a chilling ring to it as it echoed off the walls. “And I thought it wouldn’t show. Silly me. Not my best look by a long shot,” he said. “It’s red lyrium. Once the Elder One took over the stuff started to spread. It gets inside of you and then… all you hear is singing. Now I know how Bartrand felt when he had the idol,” he mused.

“Then the next thing we need to do is find Leliana,” Theo announced after a moment of silence. He had no idea where he was going, but everyone followed anyway, Dorian included. Varric and Cassandra followed, listless but constant, like red ghosts.

They found Leliana in the upper cells. She was chained by the wrists, hanging from the ceiling. Her head slumped down on her chest and a Venatori paced around her. He held a curved knife that he pressed to her throat. “You _will_ break,” he snarled in her face. When Dorian had first seen her he’d most admired her flawless, porcelain skin. Now her cheeks and eyes were hollow and sunken; bruises marred her features and her soft red hair was tangled and brittle.

She looked up and saw Theo at the same time as her tormentor, and before the man could move she’d locked her legs around his neck. He writhed and gasped for air as she strangled him, dangling in her chains. “You’re alive,” she breathed, even as the man choked and slumped over, dead beneath her. There was a slight glint of hope in her glassy eyes as Theo released her. He held her for a moment, but she quickly pushed away and searched the body for a weapon.

“You’re tough,” Theo remarked.

She turned to face him. “Anger is stronger than pain,” she said in a flat voice, sheathing two daggers and then looking around for a weapons rack and selecting a bow. “What is your brilliant plan now?” she snapped, staring at Dorian. He’d seen that look before, in headstrong slaves in the process of being broken: wounded, hungry, desperate.

“This, all this,” he said, gesturing around at the ruin, “is never supposed to happen.”

She stared at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I don’t know what you mean. Once Celene was assassinated, Orlais fell from within and opened the way for the Elder One to overrun Thedas,” she said.

“ _Fasta vass,_ ” he swore. “This isn’t real,” he said, just as desperate. Tevinter could not sink to _that._

She grabbed him by the front of his robes and pulled him down so they were nose to nose. Her skin was paper-thin and the bruises were in various states of healing. She was missing a couple of teeth. “This is all pretend to _you. I_ _suffered._ The whole world did. It _was_ real. And mages wonder why people fear them. No one should have this power.” She spit at his feet. He supposed he should be grateful it wasn’t in his face.

“Red. Let him go,” Varric said gently, tugging at her arm. “He thinks he can get us out of this. Make the future all a not-so-happy memory I’ll be glad to forget.”

Leliana fixed Dorian with one last baleful glare before releasing his robes and turning to follow Cassandra and Varric. Theo hung behind. “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked tired and sad and scared. All the things Dorian felt but would not show. He was used to this, he told himself, though the accusations still stung. Alexius had done this, not him. The fact that they were both Tevinter was an unfortunate coincidence. “I trust you,” Theo added.

“I suppose I should be grateful for small favors,” Dorian said with a small grin.

The courtyard of the castle was ruined; walls were crumbling and demons sprouted from Fade rifts dotting the yard. The sky was a sullen, sick green: the color of the raw Fade and the color of Theo’s mark. “The Breach got too big,” Cassandra said, looking around. “It’s all there is.”

“It allowed the Elder One to walk into the Fade,” Leliana said, taking out a demon with an arrow while Theo closed the nearby rift.

Dorian wracked his memories. He’d heard mention of the Elder One once before at a Venatori meeting, but had run before he discovered who or what it was. He’d never thought their Elder One would be able to conquer all of Thedas, but with enough blood magic anything was possible. Blood granted power.

“At least your hand is still useful. Whatever the Elder One did, he didn’t undo that,” Dorian said as Theo closed off another rift with a wave of his hand. “That’s useful.”

Theo’s smile was ironic. “Useful? You heard the Magister. I’m a mistake. That’s all I’ve ever been.” He gazed up at the sickly sky and for one horrible moment Dorian was afraid Theo would start crying.

“Theodane…” Dorian started. Theo looked at him with a sorrow in his eyes so similar to Varric that it was disheartening. He took a deep breath. “Your mark brought us here, rather than back to a past where Alexius would have killed you. At least we’re in a future where you are alive and able to do something. I’m here with you, for what it’s worth.” It was surprising to him to hear the earnestness in his own voice, and to know that he truly meant it. It wasn’t just an issue of self-preservation, or a desire to return to the present; Dorian was nothing if not adaptable after his years of travel alone. Theo had come to speak with Dorian, even though it meant displeasing Cassandra; he’d stood up to a Magister; he was willing to do whatever was necessary to set things right with the world.

Also, Alexius did not deserve a future where the Venatori won.

Dorian tried asking about Felix, but Leliana silenced him with a glare and led on toward the throne room where Alexius kept himself barricaded. Theo cast a sorrowful glance his way and Dorian just shrugged it off. Did anyone think this was any easier for him? His homeland and his countrymen had ravaged southern Thedas by releasing the Elder One, and after dabbling with the very fabric of time itself. He hated it all, and there was nothing that would convince anyone otherwise.

Theo set to work once more picking the lock of the throne room. Dorian watched him work, and occasionally caught Varric watching _him_. He tried to smile, but Varric just shook his head. Leliana and Cassandra leaned against the wall, weary, but driven by anger to remain strong.

“Let me go first,” Dorian said when Theo had sprung the lock at last. “This meeting is long overdue.” No one protested, and he pushed through the heavy door to see Alexius, a mere shadow of himself, sitting on the throne. Next to him, on a smaller chair, sat someone he assumed was Felix, but he was little more than a skeleton with skin draped over it. A lump welled in his throat and he swallowed. “Sorry we’re late, Alexius,” he said, striding in with his head held high.

Alexius glanced up and made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Dorian. Trevelyan. I thought you’d come back sooner or later. Welcome to your lives. All you can do is wait for the end. Like I’ve been doing for months now.”

Even after months of torture Leliana moved quickly. She grabbed Felix and hauled him to his feet with a knife to his throat and a savage gleam in her eyes.

“Felix!” Alexius shouted. Theo grabbed Dorian’s arm to hold him back. “I’ll give you anything!” It was agony as Alexius begged for his son’s life.

Leliana stared at the Magister, oozing hatred the way Cassandra and Varric oozed red lyrium. She dragged the knife across Felix’s throat. Blood gushed from his neck as he dropped to the floor, lifeless. “I want the world back,” she snarled and launched at him with her knife. Alexius gave a token resistance, but he was weakened in body and will. Leliana kept stabbing long after he was dead, harsh sobs wracking her body.

It was Cassandra who stopped her. “Peace, Sister Leliana,” the Seeker said kneeling down and placing a glowing hand on her arm. “He can hurt you no longer.” Leliana dropped her knife and shuddered, even as a low rumble sounded throughout the castle. Cassandra looked up and toward the door, then over to Theo. “The Elder One knows you are here. He’s coming.”

Theo’s hand still clutched Dorian’s arm, but he released his hold quickly when he saw Dorian looking. His green eyes were wide. “Can you do anything?” he asked nervously.

Dorian stepped over Felix’s body and kept his eyes averted, locked only on Alexius. His robes were soaked in blood that was still warm and sticky. Dorian gingerly pulled down the neck of his robe and fished about until he found the amulet that had sent them here. He’d been around blood before, and lots of it; but never so much, and he tried to ignore that all the blood on the floor was from two men whom he’d considered family once, long ago. “Can you give me an hour?” he asked.

Leliana stood. “An hour?” she asked, incredulous. “Impossible.”

Dorian knew she spoke the truth, but he refused to believe that he couldn’t at least _try_. “The only impossible thing here is us remaining in this future. I won’t do it. I can reverse the spell,” he said, weighing the amulet in his hand.

“I’m all but dead as it is,” Varric said. “I’ll hold the gate with the Seeker.”

“Varric…” Theo began.

“Go. Do what you can,” Leliana said. She glared back at Dorian. “You have as much time as I have arrows.”

He glanced at the quiver on her back. She didn’t have many arrows. But he was Dorian Pavus, and he had worked with worse odds than this. He got to work


	5. The Calm Before

_Chapter 5: The Calm Before_

 

“We do not have sufficient influence to appeal to Tevinter, nor the full authority yet to judge Alexius for his crimes,” Josephine said. Her voice was calm as always, but Theo could see the exasperation in her eyes.

“He wanted to enslave the mages. His actions would have allowed for the assassination of Empress Celene. He—“

“Would have destroyed the world as we know it,” Josephine finished for him, having heard the argument already. “Theo, the best we can do is hold him prisoner for the time being and use what information we have to our advantage.” Her lilting voice was firm.

Theo sighed and rested his head against the wall. They’d returned to Haven two days ago. He never thought he’d miss the rustic village, and returning made him nearly delirious with happiness. The way home had been quiet as Theo tried to process everything; Dorian had managed to reverse the spell, bringing them back to the present they knew. Cassandra, Leliana, and Varric hadn’t spoken much, though sometimes Theo saw Varric checking himself for signs of red lyrium. Theo had a headache from remembering what he’d seen, but thinking that logically, none of it had happened, and he shouldn’t remember something from the future that had not happened…

Cullen had imprisoned Alexius, whom he’d declared a prisoner of the Inquisition, in the Chantry dungeons. Fiona and the rebel mages had sworn allegiance to Theo. They’d set off north and west, heading toward Haven and the Breach. Theo had hoped that sealing the Breach would be the end of things. And then he could go back to…well, something. Ostwick and the Chantry? Maybe his father would be more willing to reconsider his third son’s options after this. Maybe Gavriel would put in a word for his baby brother, or perhaps he could get an apprenticeship with a master bowman and live a quiet life here in Ferelden.

But Leliana had reminded Theo of Celene’s assassination, which meant that there were more political factors to consider. Josephine wouldn’t let him execute Alexius on the spot, and the templars who’d stayed with Cullen wouldn’t fight beside the mages. There was too much to do, and he was just one person with a glowing hand and an inordinate amount of luck.

Theo took a deep breath to calm himself before facing Josephine again. She was always so collected and patient, always doing the best she could with him. “I’d like to call in Cullen and Leliana and discuss the next course of action about the Breach,” he said.

“You should sleep, Theo,” she said.

He shook his head. “How about I sleep after I close the Breach. Is that a deal?” he asked with a smile. Josephine couldn’t resist the word ‘deal’, and though she narrowed her golden brown eyes suspiciously, she finally nodded and had a page run for Leliana and Cullen. “Oh, before we hold our council,” she said, “you should know there’s a delegate here to meet with you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re paid for?” Theo asked, but he was grinning.

“I told him that, but he insisted he speak to you upon your return.” She handed him a piece of parchment. “Cremisius Aclassi, lieutenant of the Bull’s Chargers. An Orlesian mercenary company that wishes to offer services to the Inquisition.”

“That could be useful,” Theo said. “I’ll meet with him.”

He’d hoped the council would be over quickly, but he was learning to abandon that hope. After hearing of what had happened inside Redcliffe Castle, Cullen was not pleased that Theo had still chosen to ally with the mages. He’d grumbled about it the whole trip back and still couldn’t let it go. “They were willing to sell out to a _Tevinter Magister_ ,” he said, glaring at Theo. “Do you know what Tevinters do?”

“I’ll remind you that a Tevinter mage is the one that saved us, and stopped that future from happening. Or at least stalled it, if we can get along long enough to figure out how to proceed next,” Theo said, resting his hands on the war table. “Said Tevinter has also offered his knowledge of the Venatori, and any service he may provide to the Inquisition, and I’ve accepted that offer.” He sighed. “You weren’t there to see what we did, Cullen,” he said. “If we can have someone on our side who knows the enemy?”

“It is a worthwhile risk,” Leliana said. Her hood shadowed her face; sometimes in the right (or wrong) light Theo thought she looked like the tortured wraith she’d become in the future and shuddered. “Dorian is a skilled mage who has practiced his whole life without the stigmas attached to magic here in the south.”

Cullen sighed. “I don’t like it, but if this is the course of action you choose then I support it. What about this mercenary company Josephine told us about?”

Theo knew Cullen had once been a templar and had seen the fall of two Circles before coming to the Inquisition. He was wary of unchecked magic, and Theo did not blame him. “I plan to meet with their envoy after this,” he said. “I could go now, if there’s nothing else?” he asked, hopefully looking toward Josephine.

“King Alistair sends his thanks for bringing the mages to Haven,” she said. “Apparently Arl Teagan was not happy about being driven out by Magister Alexius and is grateful he can return. As thanks, we have the support of the Fereldan crown backing us now.” Her eyes glinted and she was smiling at the victory. “But other than that, you may take your leave,” she told him, and Theo was practically out the door before she’d finished saying it.

Once outside the Chantry he paused and took a deep breath of crisp mountain air. Overhead, the Breach roiled angrily. He stared at his marked hand for a moment. This mark, this power, was all a mistake. What had Alexius meant by that? If this was a mistake, what was the original intended goal?

“Scuse me. Lord Trevelyan?” Theo turned. “Saw your glowing hand, and figured it must be you.” The young man smiled. “Cremisius Aclassi, but everyone calls me Krem. It’s faster to say, you know? I’m second in command of Bull’s Chargers.”

“The mercenary company,” Theo remembered, and Krem nodded. “My advisor didn’t say much, but I only returned to Haven a couple days ago and they’ve kept me busy.” They started walking through the village, which was bustling with activity. News of the victory over the Venatori had spread and motivated everyone. “Tell me about your company. We can use all the help we can get,” he added.

“The Bull thinks you’re doing good work,” Krem said with a shrug, steering Theo toward the gate. “News traveled fast. We’d been fighting ‘Vints on the Storm Coast and were heading toward Redcliffe, then he decided to skip it altogether and head up to your home base.”

Theo chuckled. “Is that what Haven is, now?” He’d never thought of it as a base. Haven was just where they’d all ended up after being unceremoniously thrown together. He looked around at the soldiers practicing drills, at the blacksmith at work, at the quartermaster filing requisition orders.

“We set up camp just outside; didn’t want to just make ourselves welcome,” Krem said as the gates were opened to let them out onto the mountainside. Other than the Breach above, it was a calm and clear day. “Boss! The man with the hand is here!” Krem shouted, striding into the camp they’d set up. Theo glanced around at a motley group of people, all of whom smiled in greeting, except one. “That’s Grim,” Krem explained. “Don’t take it personally.”

Theo looked around, wondering which one was the Bull, but stopped when he saw the biggest man he had ever seen, and probably ever would see in his life, and it was immediately clear why he was called the Bull.

“A Qunari?” he murmured to Krem.

The Bull stood easily eight feet tall. His gray skin was covered in scars and stretched tight over solid muscles, and the span of his horns had to be the same as Theo’s arm span. Easily. A patch covered where his left eye would have been. Theo was no warrior; he was not bulky, but his training had made him lithe and agile, and he was not a short man by any means. And still the Bull was able to glower _down_ at him, staring deeply into him with his one eye. Theo tried to meet the gaze, but it was hard; it was the most intense stare he’d ever been fixed with. Besides, his eyes kept drifting to the eye patch. Then the Qunari smiled.

“I’m The Iron Bull,” he said at last. “You’ve met Krem, and those are the rest of the Chargers. We’re expensive, but we’re the best you’ll get.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest. He wore only a huge pauldron; no shirt; and the cold did not seem to bother him one bit. He surveyed his team with his single eye. “We were working in Orlais when we heard about doings in Ferelden. Wound up on the Storm Coast fighting off Vints.”

“Vints?” It was the second time Theo had heard the term in less than five minutes.

“Yeah, Tevinters,” The Iron Bull said. He ground his teeth together. “Crazy assholes summoning demons and running around screaming about being gods on earth…” When he chuckled it was like a thunderstorm in his chest. “Funny, they still bled like humans when my boys gutted them.”

Theo struggled to keep up, but unlike Josephine or Cassandra, who tended to show their annoyance when Theo needed a moment to think, The Iron Bull just waited patiently, watching Theo with his one eye. It was disconcerting, to be sure, but there was no condescension or amusement, and after a moment Theo said the only thing he could think of. “You’re a Qunari. I haven’t ever seen one before.”

The Bull shrugged. “And I’ve never seen a flying nug.”

Krem snorted. “I can fix that, boss.”

Bull shook his head, his huge horns cutting the air. “I’m Ben-Hassrath. Sort of like a spy, but… more,” he said with a noncommittal shrug. “You hire me? I kick as much ass as you want, and probably more. I share what I learn with the Ben-Hassrath. We get along, we save the day.”

Theo wondered how many ways he was going to be eviscerated by Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra. He’d already taken on the services of a Tevinter mage; what was one more strike against him? The Inquisition needed not just numbers, but talent and skills. “You’re hired,” he said, staring up and meeting the one eye, and holding out his hand. When the Bull shook it, he thought his arm would rip out of the socket. “Come on in and set up inside the village. Welcome to the Inquisition.”

           

 

* * *

 

Dorian’s hand glowed with a soft blue-white light as he made his way down into the dungeons below the Chantry. At least in Tevinter the Chantry was more of a figurehead, while the Magisterium held the real power; here in the south it seemed that everything about their religion intended to imprison. Why would a place of worship need dungeons anyway?

He’d spent a couple of days mulling over this decision, and a couple of nights staring at the ceiling for hours wondering what it could accomplish. But in the end curiosity and regret for old loyalties had decided him. He stopped by the cell at the end of the hallway. “Dorian. Come to gawk at my failure?” Alexius asked without looking up. “Come to remind me again how my student exceeded his master?”

Dorian shook his head. “No. I came because of Felix. If not for him, I’d have nothing to say to you.”

Alexius glanced up at Dorian. “Is he here?” Then he sighed. “Why ask? Even if he was he would not want to see or speak with me.”

“He returned to Tevinter on behalf of the Inquisition. He will use information against you.”

“If I could feel a sense of betrayal this may be easier to bear,” Alexius said at last. He shifted to see Dorian better and gripped the bars of his cell to support himself. His wrists were held in faintly glowing shackles that Dorian recognized as lyrium chains, meant to prevent a mage from accessing mana. “But I believe the truth is that I betrayed him a long time ago. I only wanted…” He looked away and sighed.

“What any Tevinter father would want,” Dorian said. “Everyone dies, Alexius. Fathers. Sons. Siblings. Friends. He still loves you; you’re his father. But he couldn’t stay after what happened. Frankly I’m surprised I’m still here.”

Alexius ‘humphed’. “I’m not. You never did anything anyone expected of you, Dorian.” He stared at his student for a long moment and Dorian met his gaze evenly. “Just think what your father will do when he realizes you’ve joined the enemy.”

Luckily Dorian had trained his magic from a young age, so he was able to quell the desire to let out a surge of mana in a fireball or lightning storm. Even his magelight didn’t falter once. “Yes, imagine. However, if I gave a fuck what he thought, I’d still be in Tevinter.” He turned and left to seek out more pleasant company.

 

* * *

 

 

The Iron Bull and the Chargers added a whole new life to the camp. Theo discovered that the Qunari could outdrink even the best of Cullen’s men, and Krem played a mean game of Wicked Grace, much to Varric’s delight. It was almost a relief to have the raucous atmosphere after the weeks of tension. It was reassuring to see everyone really start to come together, and as much as Varric insisted it was because of Theo, he still had his doubts.

He bumped into Dorian coming out of the Chantry. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay on,” he offered after a moment’s hesitation.

“For a little while,” Dorian said. There was an edge of caution to his voice. “Until the mages help you seal the Breach at the _very_ least. After that, I’d not had any plans.”

Theo nodded and tried to ignore the surprising sense of disappointment that lodged in his stomach. “Well, that’s good. I mean, you’re very talented. What you did in Redcliffe…”

Dorian smiled and waved the compliment away. “I’m thankful it worked; I’d rather not try to imagine what the world would be like had we failed.” He started walking, and Theo walked alongside him. “I see you took on a Qunari?” Theo nodded. “You realize that the Tevinter Imperium and the Qunari have been at war for centuries?”

Theo shook his head and his cheeks flushed. “If I had known, I…”

Dorian laughed. “You’d have put my comforts ahead of the Inquisition’s needs? I’m quite flattered,” he said, gray eyes sparkling.

“There’s a lot I don’t really know yet,” Theo said, completely flustered by Dorian’s smile and the way that glint in his eyes made his stomach twist. “Maybe you could tell me more about Tevinter?”

Dorian paused and surveyed him a moment. “Do you play chess at all?” he finally asked, rather than answer.

Theo was taken aback, but didn’t wish to show it, not to the graceful mage who never seemed out of sorts about anything. “Not well.”

“I haven’t played in ages. It’s hard to settle down and play a casual game when you’re constantly on the run. And now that I have leisure time, no one wants to play with me,” he said and Theo swore he was almost pouting. “Care to join the evil Tevinter Magister, who is not really a Magister at all?”

Theo laughed and glanced around the camp. Everyone was engaged in practice or leisure and for once no one was chasing him down. He nodded and followed Dorian to the small cabin he’d been given for lodging, across the way from Solas. “Is this the mages’ corner?” Theo asked with a smile. His heart fluttered as Dorian waved a hand across the door and opened it.

“It may as well be,” Dorian said, inviting him in. The cabin was quite small, but clean, and Dorian’s few belongings were stored neatly. He took a seat at the small table and gestured for Theo to join him while he went about setting up the pieces on the chess grid burned into the table top. “I must say, I was surprised that the Inquisition would support free mages. What’s next, elves running Halamshiral?”

“You disapprove?” Theo asked cautiously. The pieces were set, but he had a feeling the game had begun long ago.

Dorian’s long fingers hovered over a piece. “On the contrary, I’m rather impressed. You’ve given Fiona and her people a chance at autonomy; a sense of authority, to be more like… well, mages back home.”

“I don’t think the rest of the Inquisition really approves,” Theo said, staring at the board rather than at Dorian. “But… one of my sisters is a mage. She never complained, but I also never got to know her because of it.”

“You have a sister?”

Theo counted on his fingers. “Two older brothers and three older sisters. I’m the baby.”

“The mistake?” Dorian asked quietly and Theo jerked his head up and glared at him. “My apologies, but I heard what you’d told Alexius. And you said it again in the future. Clearly it’s something that galls you.”

Theo sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear that, and it’s not important.” He stared down at his left hand. The green glow was soft, and the tingle so constant that he didn’t really feel it anymore unless he thought about it. “I can do something to stop all this shit. That’s what’s important.”

Dorian had not yet made his move. “Do you feel unimportant because you are the youngest?” he asked, head cocked to the side. He half smiled. “Forgive me if I’m too forward. As an only child, such matters are alien to me.”

Theo wasn’t quite sure where to begin. “It’s not that I’m the youngest. It’s that I’m the youngest _son_. Where I come from in the Free Marches, it’s customary that any son after the second is dedicated to a life of Chantry service either as a brother or as a templar. It looks good to the Chantry, but really it’s to keep peace in issues of succession.”

Dorian absently smoothed his mustache that somehow kept perfectly curled regardless of climate. Theo found it interesting to see him sitting here in a small wooden cabin, like a peacock among a flock of pigeons. “You seem of an age where you’d have gone to the Chantry already,” Dorian said, calm as he watched Theo watching him, so confident in his looks and elegant grace that he was able to meet Theo’s eyes. “Or is there a Lady Trevelyan waiting?” he asked with a smirk.

Theo blushed. Gavriel had taken him to a brothel once, just after he’d turned sixteen. The woman was lovely, with long golden hair and smooth, pale skin and round blue eyes; she’d had lovely breasts that she’d placed his hands upon, and he’d stood there, not sure what to do as she whispered naughty things to him and pressed her breasts against his hands. Gavriel had said he’d feel stirring in his breeches, but that only happened when a lithe and handsome male elf had accidentally walked in. Theo’s eyes had drifted to the elf, with his red-gold hair and delicate ears, his willowy body and warm brown eyes, and _then_ he’d stirred. The whore had glanced back, shrugged, and allowed the elf to stay in Theo’s line of vision while she performed her task. She’d left shortly after, and Theo tried to dress, but ended up with his mouth all over the elf.

“I’m not very good with women,” he told Dorian without looking at him.

“Neither am I,” Dorian said, twirling a pawn between his fingers.

Theo looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You? Please. They must have fought one another to the death to bed you in Tevinter.”

Dorian looked like he was holding back laughter. “Oh, they did. But if you’re no good with women, as you claim, and you were meant to go to the Chantry… why are you not there?”

Why did so much of Theo’s bitterness in life revolve around Gavriel? It wasn’t that he disliked his brother, and that’s what made it even harder. “Gavriel, my middle brother, is six years older than me. He’s always felt bad for me; he said Matthias was the heir, he was the spare, and I was the ‘don’t care’. It sounds bad, but we just had to laugh about it.” He smiled. He didn’t miss Ostwick, but he did sometimes think about Gave. “A few years back when it was about time to send me off Gave got sick. They brought a healer in from the Circle, they tried enchantments, potions, prayers… he eventually got better, but he was never the same. And then a year later he got worse again… it was just this cycle. So they kept me around in case Gave died and they needed a _spare_ spare,” Theo said. His throat felt raw and he thought he might snap from the built up tension. He took a deep breath that he had to swallow around the blockage in his throat. “I’m sorry, Dorian. I shouldn’t have burdened you with that.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed slightly. “Why ever are you sorry?” he asked. “Firstly, I asked. Second, I’ve always enjoyed a good bit of family drama. We thrive on it in Tevinter,” he said and grinned. “The stories I could tell you about the great Altus families and their doings would make your family look like the most loving individuals in the world.”

“Even your family?” Theo asked, trying to smile.

Dorian’s grin faltered just slightly. “Especially my family,” he said.

There was a knock at the door. Dorian waved his hand and the door creaked open to allow Solas to poke his bald head through. “The mages are wanted… Oh, Theo. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware Dorian was entertaining company,” Solas said.

Theo stood just a bit too quickly and nearly knocked over the chair. “We were just… talking,” he finished lamely. “You said the mages are needed?”

Solas gave him a long, appraising look. “Yes, and you as well. We are going to head up to close the Breach.”

It was only as he followed Solas out that he realized that, aside from Dorian fidgeting with a pawn, they had not played any chess.


	6. The Long Night

_Chapter 6: The Long Night_

This trek up the mountain pass was far better than the last time, and it was mostly because the Breach had stopped slowly killing Theo with each expansion. He’d closed the largest of the Fade rifts nearly a month ago, stopping the spread of the Breach and saving his life in the process.

Flurries of snow fell as he led his team up the mountainside, drawing ever nearer the Breach. His heart pounded with excitement and the tingle in his hand grew to a slow burn as he approached. The mages followed, led by Solas; Dorian had blended into their ranks, just another mage helping Theo.

Cassandra stopped before they approached the rubble of the temple. She stood before Theo. “You look excited,” she observed.

“The Iron Bull promised a Qunari drinking contest if we win,” Theo said with a grin. “You’d be excited too, if you were into that sort of thing.”

Cassandra tried not to, but she ended up smiling anyway, even in spite of the sickly Fade-green light rippling around them. “I will enjoy watching you make more of ass out of yourself than usual,” she said, unable to keep her face straight. Theo would have thought that her experiences in the future would have made her even more serious; but her gratitude at being back in her own time, and what they were about to do, had given her hope.

“I like these terms,” Theo said. “You and Bull have my back?”

She nodded. “Yes. And Varric will cover you with the mages.” She glanced back over her shoulder to a ledge and waved; Varric waved back, hefting Bianca in one hand. “You’ve come a long way in a short time,” she said. “May the Maker bless you.”

“You too, Cassandra,” Theo said, and then he clasped her hand for a moment.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, emptying himself of his fear, his excitement, and his emotions. He couldn’t care what his father would think, or about the red lyrium future he had to look forward to if he failed. No, he would not see a broken Leliana or a listless Varric.

Theo strode toward the Breach. It was angry and raw and open. There was wailing, but it came from inside of him. His hand sparked and throbbed. It hurt nearly as bad as when he’d realized he had the mark, only now he knew what it did and why he had it.

“I am not a mistake,” he whispered. No one else would hear him over the howling winds of the maelstrom. “I have a purpose. I’m not an accident.”

He stopped and squinted up into the Breach. Lightning crackled and sometimes he thought he saw demons flit through the cyclone of magic. “I am not a mistake,” Theo repeated. He threw his hand up at the wound in the sky.

At first the surge of power from the connection nearly knocked him off his feet. He dug his heels in and braced himself against the hard ground and held his left wrist with his right hand to keep himself steady. The force of the magic was almost too much. Then he felt the tension relax as the mages hit the Breach with the force of their combined power. When he opened his eyes he saw everything as if through a thin film. He dared not break his focus, but he was sure Solas had cast a shield on him. Standing was certainly much easier with the shield.

Theo lifted his head. Sweat dripped down his forehead and ran into his eyes but he could not move his hands, not now, not so close. His eyes stung and he gritted his teeth. He was doing something. He was fulfilling a purpose for which he had been made. He was not a mistake.

The roar in his ears grew. His chest constricted. The magic pressed in on him from all sides, crushing him. His arms were burning with the muscle strain and the magic of his mark. His knees buckled, but through sheer force of will Theo kept his connection to the Breach. He swallowed; his throat was raw. Had he been screaming?

There was an explosion of blinding white light and the line between Theo and the Breach was severed. He pitched forward, slamming his face into the rocky ground. His arms were limp, as if his bones were made of water. The air smelled of sweet cold. Stars collided behind his eyelids. People were cheering. Theo rolled over on his back.

The sky was clear, the sun was setting and the first pale stars were coming out. A puckered scar ran across the sky where the Breach had been, but it was over. Theo tasted blood from a gash in his lip, but he was laughing, long and loud. He’d stopped the nightmare future from ever coming to pass, which felt even better than having physically closed the Breach.

The Iron Bull stood over him, blocking out the sky; Cassandra and Solas knelt down. “I fail to see what is so funny,” she said peevishly.

Theo tried to catch his breath. “Solas. The Breach. Can you tell…?”

Solas stared up at the sky and his eyes glazed over as he reached for the Fade. “The Breach is closed, but the scar upon the heavens shall remain,” he said, blinking to clear the visions. “I shall walk the Fade later this evening and survey the damage from that side.” His hand hovered over Theo. “You have no lasting injury,” he confirmed. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like I’ve been dragged across the Frostbacks on my stomach, but I’ll live,” he said, prodding his lip with his tongue. It stung, but he’d had worse. Iron Bull helped him to his feet; or, more accurately, picked him up under his arms and set him on his feet, holding onto him until he got his balance.

“You did good, Boss,” the Bull said, about to clap Theo on the shoulder, but Theo held up a hand to stop him; he didn’t think he’d stay upright if Bull did that. The Qunari stared up at the scar. “Those were some powerful fireworks.”

“I thought Qunari hated magic,” Theo said, stretching his aching arms.

“We do. But sometimes it’s a means to an end,” the Iron Bull said. “In this case, using magic stopped the sky from raining demons. I’m far more comfortable under that scar in the sky than I was under the Breach.”

“I can hardly imagine you being uncomfortable with anything,” Theo said, turning to follow Cassandra and Solas back down the mountain.

Bull gave him a long look. “Ben-Hassrath,” he reminded Theo. “I’m good at hiding it.”

 

 

* * *

 

People were bumping elbows and jostling one another left and right to get Theo drinks. His older brothers would be so proud, he thought. But much as he’d talked up the Qunari drinking game with Cassandra, he found that he didn’t want to drink himself into a stupor. He’d managed a major victory and wanted to savor it, and most of all, remember it. He’d been able to sneak off from the main fray and sat on a stone wall overlooking the fire-lit village. Gavriel would probably have told him to go enjoy himself, but Theo found contentment in just watching everyone else celebrate.

“I hope you don’t intend to be sober the entire evening,” Dorian said, emerging from a darkened pathway and holding a bottle. “You do deserve some commendation after all.”

“I want to enjoy this,” Theo said. In these shadows it was easier for him to sneak longer looks at Dorian. Faint flickers of firelight caught the angles of his facial features and made his eyes seem unfathomable. “The victory,” he said quickly, looking away, though he had been enjoying the opportunity to stare at Dorian. “What do you have there?” he asked.

Dorian sat next to him: close enough for him to feel a bit nervous with excitement, but not so close as to make him uncomfortable. “Tevinter red. My one bottle. I took it when I left home and I’ve been saving it, though I was never sure whatever for. I would say that closing off a massive tear in the Fade and saving the world would qualify.”

Theo shook his head and leaned away from Dorian just a bit. “I couldn’t do that; it’s from your home.”

Dorian shrugged. “It’s also just wine. I suppose I could drink it all myself. I’ve been known to do that on occasion.” He popped the stopper on the bottle and closed his eyes as he took a whiff of the wine. “It smells like home.” He took a deep swig.

Theo’s eyes traced the curve of Dorian’s neck. Maker. Since that time in the brothel he’d worked hard to school his feelings. First he thought maybe if he showed interest in the noble ladies of Ostwick his father might reconsider a marriage arrangement. Sure, he’d be living a lie, but he’d be freer than in the Chantry. Then he’d been brought to the Conclave and was expected to be a good Chantry boy, not even looking at the women (which was easier for him than most). But then the Breach had happened… and now he was not-too-surreptitiously ogling not just a mage, but a Tevinter one at that. “Do you miss home?” Theo asked, looking away.

Dorian pressed the bottle into Theo’s hand and urged him to drink. “Sometimes,” he confessed. “I miss the warmth most of all. It’s so bloody cold here. Luckily I’m a master of primal spells and can keep myself warm for the most part. Wine helps too.”

Theo tilted back the bottle and sipped gingerly. It was a bolder flavor than the table wine he’d had at home, rich and full and fruity, but not sweet. It was smooth, as smooth as Dorian’s voice and he felt pleasant and fuzzy after just a few sips. He handed the bottle back to Dorian before he drank too much, felt too fuzzy, and did something too stupid. Dorian’s hand brushed his and he withdrew quickly.

Dorian smiled in the dim, flickering light. “I may be Tevinter, but I’m hardly a wild animal,” he said.

Theo was glad he couldn’t see him blush. It had far less to do with Dorian being Tevinter, and far more to do with him being attractive. “Now that the Breach is closed—“

“Theodane!” Cullen shouted, barreling up the path. His cheeks were flushed and his nostrils flared. “There’s a force moving toward us. Huge.”

Theo jumped up and ran after Cullen, but cast a quick glance back at Dorian. The mage nodded and saluted him with the wine bottle before putting it to his lips and drinking deeply. “Allies?” he asked Cullen, struggling to get his quiver on over his armor while holding his bow. Cullen shook his head as they ran to the gate. “Status?” Theo asked the men at the gate.

They’d been celebrating as well and their speech was already a bit slurred. But suddenly someone was pounding on the gate. “Let me in! I can’t help if you won’t let me in!” a young man shouted, fists pounding relentlessly.

The guards looked between each other and Cullen, and finally Theo just pushed past them and undid the bar. A young man stumbled in. He was hardly dressed for the harsh mountain weather; he was pale as a ghost and the oversized brim of his hat kept Theo from getting a good look at his face. “He sang a siren song, silver tongue making promises of purpose. He was too loud and they couldn’t help but hear. They had to listen,” he rambled, glancing between Theo and Cullen with panicked eyes.

Theo shook his head to clear it from the wine and the confusion of the sudden onslaught. “Who’s coming? Who listened? And who are you?” he added, ducking his head to try and get a look at the boy’s face.

“I’m Cole. The templars come to kill you.”

Cullen swore. “Why would they do that? We had a common enemy!”

Cole stared at the ground. “The red song became their blood. It filled them and beat through them and they became the song.”

Theo looked around at the camp, which had been alive with celebration just moments before. The fires now leapt higher, alarm bells were ringing, and soldiers were yanking on armor and scrambling for weapons. “Josephine!” he yelled when he caught sight of his advisor. “Get the villagers into the Chantry!” He looked back to Cullen. “Strategy?”

Cullen was a consummate soldier and excellent commander, and he easily set aside his uncertainty and anger to survey their surroundings. “We can use the environment to our advantage,” he decided. “If we hit a mountainside with the trebuchet we should be able to trigger an avalanche that will take out some of the force.”

Theo nodded. “Good. Let’s set the archers up and let them pick them off.”

“Mages? Scouts?”

Theo shook his head. “The mages are still fairly spent.” _I am too,_ he thought. His lip still throbbed and he felt sore, but there was no time for that. “We should try to keep our people behind the gates rather than send them out.” By then the Iron Bull, Krem, Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian had joined them. Three of these people hardly knew him, and yet here they stood, waiting for Theo to say more. His mouth went dry.

“Frightened, fearful, falling, you want to be enough—“

“Cole, please,” Theo snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose and thinking.

“I’ll take Cassandra and Varric to the south trebuchet,” Cullen said. “Bull and the Chargers and Dorian can go with you to the north.”

“Skinner, Rocky, Stitches, you’re with me and the Boss,” Bull said. “Krem, take Grim and Dalish and go with the Commander.” Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but Bull shook his head. “You’re in good hands with Krem de la Crème,” he said with a grin. Krem rolled his eyes and landed a hard punch to Bull’s abdomen.

“I told you I hate that fucking joke, you big _qalaba_ ,” Krem said, but he was smiling.

“Hey, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t talk to you at all,” Bull said, clapping Krem on the shoulder. “Take care of the Commander, okay?” he said, attempting to wink at Cullen with his single eye.

Theo trudged up to the north catapult, and by then the red templars had begun to break through the gates. He dodged a massive sword coming at him and nocked an arrow as he moved, pausing only to turn and shoot into the fray that was coming through the gate. He moved without thinking; even though his arms were sore from earlier, years of training had build up muscle memory that took over through his exhaustion. The bow was an extension of his arm, and his arrows flew straight.

Bull swung a massive maul in an arc, taking down a row of templars; Dorian conjured a massive ball of lightning that bathed the battleground in an eerie violet glow. He casually flicked out his hand and the ball exploded into bolts that stabbed down into the group. Theo smelled burning even yards away. His stomach turned.

Dorian moved with the fluid ease of a man completely comfortable with his talent. He’d barely cast off one spell before he had another going, and he never stopped moving. Bull moved surprisingly well for a man of his size; Theo had expected a slow, hulking tank and clearly their opponents had been as well. He moved quickly, knocking down rows of templars with his maul, and the ones stupid enough to engage him at point blank range were gored by his horns.

Theo wheeled around to see a red templar barreling toward him. He tried to nock an arrow, but at that speed the man would…

…Not make it. Suddenly he dropped to his knees. Blood poured from his throat, staining the snow. Cole stood behind him, staring at the body and holding a pair of wicked daggers that dripped blood. “The tide sucks itself in, gathering as much of itself as it can…”

“Cole. Speak plainly,” Theo said, unable to keep calm and try to discern the boy’s strange ramblings.

Cole lifted his chin so Theo could see his ghostly pale eyes. “The Elder One comes here for you. He doesn’t care about the village. They will die. All of them.”

Theo blinked. “Elder One?” He asked.

Dorian joined him. “Elder One?” He repeated. “I thought we avoided that course of action by sealing off the Breach.”

“When they couldn’t get what they wanted he called to them.   The Elder One promised that if they destroyed you they’d get what they wanted.”

Theo turned his shaking hand over and looked at his palm. Then he looked around at the men… at his men. They’d known him for only a very brief time, but they’d been loyal. With the Breach sealed he could ask no more of them. “Go to the Chantry,” he said quietly, not looking anyone in the eye. “Get Cullen and go to the Chantry, all of you. I think someone once mentioned that there were basement passages that led into the mountains. You can all escape.”

Silence, but for the cries of battle. “It’s all sentimental and shit,” Bull finally said. “But what about _your_ escape?” he asked pointedly.

Theo took a deep breath and clenched his marked hand to his side. “I’ll figure something out. I always do,” he said with a bright smile. He would _not_ meet anyone’s eyes. He couldn’t. For one brief, glorious month he’d led armies and done great deeds. He’d had soldiers; a Seeker; a Qunari mercenary; and a Tevinter mage loyal to him and his cause. It was more than he could have hoped for, and dying tonight wouldn’t be a bad end after all he’d done just in the last month. Better than growing old and dying of boredom in the Ostwick Chantry.

He expected resistance, but the Iron Bull just dropped a huge hand on his shoulder. “We’ll see you on the other side,” he said, bowing his head before he gestured for his Chargers to follow.

“Cole, go to help the people,” Theo said, starting for the trebuchet.

“I’m not saying goodbye, you know,” Dorian called after him.

Theo turned about to see the mage standing in the snow, arms crossed over his chest. His hair was tousled and there were a few smudges of something, ash or blood, on his face. His lips were pressed in a thin line of irritation. “You don’t have to,” he said. “You do have to go to the Chantry with everyone else and let me handle this.” Dorian tried to protest but Theo wouldn’t hear it. “It’s been an honor and all that stuff,” Theo said gruffly, reaching out to shake Dorian’s hand.

The mage surveyed Theo’s extended hand and then shook his head and smiled slightly. “Like I said, I’m not saying goodbye. This means you need to return. Otherwise I’ll feel terribly guilty for not saying farewell, and then I’ll wallow away the rest of my days drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine.”

Theo couldn’t help but laugh. “You know? I think you might actually _enjoy_ that.”

Dorian smiled slightly. “I may. But I’d actually rather not find out. So do try to remain alive?”

Theo shrugged. “I’ll try. Go,” he said, and after one moment Dorian left, but not before waving his staff and casting a shield over Theo. He watched the mage leave and wondered what good one magical shield was going to do against the great host marching toward him. He heard the sounds of battle drawing closer. He began to wind the trebuchet, his arms protesting, and sheer willpower forcing him on.

The dragon came from nowhere, swooping low and knocking Theo off the platform and into the snow. He floundered in the cold powder and searched the dark and smoky sky. The dragon’s huge shape circled once and landed, shaking the ground. Theo did not have the time to stand before its rider dismounted and seemed to float over the snow toward him.

Theo struggled to get his feet beneath him, but the man… no. The monster grabbed him by his left arm and jerked him into the air. Theo grunted at the pain in his shoulder as the thing held him at eye level. He was huge; his face was scarred and distorted, with stone or metal shards seeming to grow out of--or into his skin. His eyes were dazed with madness and he smelled like the red lyrium future Theo had stopped from happening.

“Behold the will that is Corypheus,” he said, staring into Theo’s eyes with a burning hatred. He flung Theo aside. “You will kneel before me.”

He lay in the snow in front of the dragon’s maw. Theo’s arm hung twisted and useless at his side and his breath had been knocked out of him, but he’d always been stubborn. He glared up at Corypheus and forced himself to his feet. “No,” he said. “I won’t yield.”

Corypheus stared and smiled. “It matters not,” he said. “You will kneel, and you will break.”

The words to Leliana in future Redcliffe. Theo’s blood boiled inside. “I’ll die first,” he snapped.

Corypheus laughed. “Probably.” He reached into his tattered robes and produced a glowing orb. Theo felt the pull of magic in his hand and the fiery pain as his damaged arm reached for the orb not of his own volition. “You are an accident,” he said. Theo thought his arm was going to rip off. “You interrupted something years in the making and stole power that you do not deserve. That which marks you? I crafted it to assault the very heavens!”

“Try harder next time,” Theo said from between gritted teeth, and kicked the trebuchet release as hard as he could.

The line of magic faltered enough for Theo to pull back and turn away from the monster. It had been a long time since he’d prayed, but certain death would do that to anyone. _Let mine be the last sacrifice,_ he thought and ran blindly as the first rumbles of a massive avalanche began to shake Haven.


	7. Darkest Before

_Chapter 7: Darkest Before_

 

The sun was blinding on the snow and a biting mountain wind blew the drifts until Dorian could see no sign that the Inquisition had trudged through it on the way out of Haven. This was the second morning he’d backtracked to look into the endless white wastes and hadn’t seen any hint of their passing. If he could not see it, and he knew they’d come through, would anyone else?

“Here,” Cullen said, handing him a steaming mug. “You’re going to freeze. What are you doing, anyway?”

Dorian took the mug from the Commander without question, though he did sniff it first. The last time he’d taken a drink from someone he didn’t know well, he’d ended up in chains. At least this would keep his hands warm. “Thank you. I was hoping to see any signs of life from behind,” he said, squinting out and tugging the fur cloak about him more tightly. The cold seeped through his boots and he could hardly feel his feet.

Cullen stood next to him. “He took down nearly an entire mountain. There’s a chance that…”

“Thank you for the grim reality check, Commander,” Dorian said without looking at him.

“I’m sure he would appreciate your concern,” Cullen said, his breath steaming in the frigid air. He was dressed in his armor and had pulled a bear pelt around his neck and shoulders. Frost was forming on his breastplate and his cheeks were red and chapped.

Dorian was certain he didn’t look much better. “My concern for him is borne out of self-preservation.” Cullen glanced at him. “I’m here at the behest of Lord Trevelyan. I’m fully aware of how my Tevinter blood marks me, and am certain that if he does not return I’ll find myself out on my frozen arse in the snow.”

Cullen’s mouth twitched in a slight smile. “Perhaps if you give us a chance, more will give you a chance.”

Dorian sniffed. The cold cut his sinuses and his eyes watered. It felt like his eyeballs were freezing. “If I come through this with my pretty Tevinter head intact, then I will give people a chance,” he said. Then he sighed. “Thank you though,” he told Cullen. “I can see you’re making an effort, and I suppose I should too. With you, at least. Thank you for the tea.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t freeze,” Cullen said.

Dorian nodded his thanks and shivered again. He reached inside and tugged at a thread of mana and felt warmer as the fire magic surged inside. He didn’t fancy setting himself on fire, but this was better than freezing to death.

He turned at the sound of crunching footsteps and saw the Iron Bull and Krem, the only other Tevinter Dorian had seen in this whole odyssey that wasn’t completely insane. Krem kept going, but the Bull paused. Dorian glared at him with the appropriate amount of Tevinter disdain. “We’re heading out to see if we can find any sign of the Boss,” Bull said at last. “Wanna come along?”

“You sure I won’t end up with a knife in my back?” Dorian asked.

The Bull stared at him long with his one eye, but Dorian had been sized up by far worse. “You ever use your fancy magic to burn down a dormitory full of kids?” he finally asked.

Dorian blinked, taken aback. “Um… no, not today at least.”

Bull grinned. “Great. Then we’re good. Come on.”

Dorian blamed the snow and the cold for dulling his better senses. He sighed and followed after the huge beast of a man… or was it the other way around? The Tevinter, Krem, just flashed a glance at him and shook his head at Dorian’s misery. It was hard to keep up with the Bull’s long strides, but Dorian somehow did. He didn’t need one more reason for the Qunari to hate him.

They slogged through the snow, Krem matching the Bull’s strides while Dorian started to lag behind more and more. At last the Bull slowed and let Krem take point. “You doing okay?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. Lovely. A Qunari was asking after his well-being; the world truly was ending. “Of course I am,” he snapped. “Why did we even agree to leave him behind in the first place?” he asked. It was something that had bothered him for the last two days.

“It was an order,” Bull said. Each step he took equaled two of Dorian’s. “Boss said to pull back, so I pulled back.”

“But he was outnumbered,” Dorian argued.

Bull nodded. “I know.” His voice was soft, and Dorian wondered if he was feeling regret. Were Qunari even capable of feeling regret? “But he ordered us to pull back and leave him. If I disobeyed his order it would have undermined him, and frankly, he didn’t need any more of that.”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” Dorian said. It made sense; Theo had been a stumbling leader since Dorian had known him. He meant well and tried hard, but looked for approval. He tried to pretend he didn’t care, but Dorian could see the uncertainty in those green eyes. He pulled the cloak up to cover his neck. Ice crystals were forming in his mustache, which he figured was quite unattractive, but could not be helped. He rubbed his hands together and reached for the thin strand of fire magic. The cold and the march had made him tired and his mana was running low from the sheer effort of keeping warm. “Let’s keep going,” he said. “He was lucky once before. Perhaps he’ll be lucky again.”

Bull nodded, his horns bobbing. “Let’s hope.”

They kept going. Sometimes Dorian looked behind him only to see their trail covered by drifting snow and wondered how they’d ever find their way back, or if the huge Qunari was leading him to his death. All he’d have to say back at camp was the pampered, spoiled ‘Vint had wandered off and frozen to death…

“Boss!” Krem shouted over the wind. “We got a trail here!”

Bull had been keeping pace with Dorian for a while now, but he took off, moving very fast for a man his size. Dorian followed, trying to move more quickly, but his limbs were stiff with the cold. _Venhedis_ , he would _not_ be left behind to freeze to death! He tried to step in the Bull’s tracks, which made moving easier.

Krem was crouched down in the snow, squinting to the south. “The drifts are filling them in, but these are definitely fresher than we’d have left,” he told his commander. “Whoever made them headed from the direction of Haven, but looks like they veered off here.”

“Probably during that last squall that went through,” Bull said. “Nice work, Krem.”

They followed the tracks and Dorian debated going back, since they seemed to have this under control, but the embarrassing truth was he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find his way back. Already their own tracks were obscured by windblown snow.

Krem and Bull moved faster as the new tracks got fresher. Dorian cursed himself for forgetting his staff as he stumbled along. The sun was bright and the cold made his eyes tear up; it was hard to see, which made him walk right into the Iron Bull’s broad, muscled back. He swore and Bull wheeled around, eight feet of bulk ready to squash him like a bug. “Can you do anything?” Bull asked, which rather surprised Dorian. The big man dropped to his knees in the snow.

 _Vishante kaffas_. Dorian looked over his shoulder and saw Theo. For one terrible moment Dorian thought that he was dead; he was still and an unhealthy shade of blue colored his skin and lips. Ice crystals had formed in his delicate eyelashes. He was breathing, but barely.

“You just going to stand there, or are you going to do something useful?” Krem asked, fixing Dorian with a dangerous glare.

“I’m not a healer,” Dorian said quietly. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“If you can’t do anything then get the fuck out of my way,” Bull grunted, easily hefting Theo’s frozen body into his massive arms. “Fuck, he’s colder than an Orlesian’s dick.”

“Wait!” Dorian said. He approached Bull and his hands hovered over Theo. Theo’s eyes were half-open and glazed over and his left arm hung at a strange angle. Dorian had never been much for healing magic, but he could command the elements. His hands trembled with his own chill, but he focused and drew upon the tendrils of mana deep within. The warmth trickled down his arms and into his hands and he breathed deep, despite the cutting cold in his nose. He did not conjure a full fire, but enough of a warming glow that the ice clinging to Theo began to melt. “It’s something, though hardly enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “He needs a true healer.”

“You sure you’re not going to set him on fire?” Krem asked suspiciously. Bull remained silent. There was obvious tension in his arm muscles that was not from holding Theo; the Qunari probably could have held him with one arm. “Boss…”

“I got this, Krem,” Bull said through clenched teeth. He closed his one eye and Dorian feared he would snap.

At last Dorian had spent nearly everything he had and he pulled away. “That should help. Get him back to camp. Don’t wait for me.” _You’ve done it now, Dorian. He’ll head back and leave you to die in the frozen wastes. What a noble ending._

Bull started to stride off, but turned his great horned head. “Krem. Wait for him.”

           

* * *

 

Voices. Maybe. It could still be the roaring howl of the wind and the snow. Feeling, possibly. It could just be the snow raking its icy claws across his exposed skin. Pain, definitely. A constant ache in his chest and ribs, sharp stabbing pain in his arm. He couldn’t move and he didn’t want to. Everything was so fuzzy and muted.

Another wave of clarity washed over him and the pain intensified, but so did his other senses. Definitely voices, definitely feeling. And now he was moving, trembling and shuddering all over as he realized just _how fucking cold_ he was. So cold it hurt to breathe—that was the constriction in his chest. The cold came from the inside, so no matter how many heated rocks or blankets they piled on, Theo could not stop feeling it.

There were hands on either side of his head and he felt calmer immediately. His chest still hurt but breathing was easier. “Dorian, warm him,” Solas said.

Theo managed to open his eyes a little bit. Solas was a pale blur hunched over him, hands passing healing magic into him. Dorian shot down a vial of lyrium and shuddered once before reaching beneath the mountain of blankets and furs. His handsome face was drawn and pale, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he concentrated. His hands were on him, and Theo felt warmth begin to spread into his chest and torso. It became easier to breathe. The pain began to subside into a dull ache and the light faded into darkness again. Only this time there was no howl, no biting cold, only pleasant warmth that was beginning to thaw him out.

 

* * *

 

“Can you continue?” Solas asked, looking up.

Dorian slid his hands out from under the blankets and shook them. He’d been channeling a tightly controlled fire spell through his hands for the last several hours and was starting to lose feeling in his fingers. Even the lyrium wasn’t helping anymore. He hadn’t supplemented his innate power with that much lyrium in years. He was going to magic himself to death. He smiled at Solas. “Yes, I can,” he said.

Solas smiled and shook his head. “If you can’t, you should not. You’re of no use to the Inquisition if you kill yourself.”

“One thing I admire about you, Solas, is how often you speak the truth,” Dorian said. “The obvious truth that anyone can see with his or her eyes closed.” He pressed a hand to his temple. He felt like his skull was cracking open. He’d never come this dangerously close to expending everything he had before, and it was frightening to him.

“Go rest, Dorian,” Solas said with a sigh. “I have some skill with primal magic. I doubt it will be as finessed as yours, but if need be I can use it.” He searched Dorian’s face; but Dorian was careful to only belie irritation and condescension.

At last Dorian got to his feet, feeling quite unsteady, but doing his damnedist not to show it. He gave Solas a nod and headed for his tent. He meant to lie back and stare at the tent wall and sulk at being dismissed, but the moment he pulled the pile of furs over his head he passed out into blessed oblivion.

 

* * *

 

Cullen, Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine were arguing _again._ They’d done nothing but argue since… well, as long as Theo could remember since regaining consciousness. He was able to sip weak tea and broth and every day felt… not warmer, more like less frozen. Solas had set his dislocated shoulder and broken arm and had healed it, but Theo still had it bandaged and in a sling to prevent future injury. He wondered if he could continue to feign unconsciousness and pretend they didn’t exist. Maybe they would stop if he broke in.

But if he broke in with news of the Elder One—Corypheus—they might start arguing afresh. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. He had closed the Breach; why hadn’t that been enough?

He felt a warm hand on his forehead and opened his eyes slightly. Through the blur he saw dark skin, kind eyes… his heart jumped and he opened his eyes all the way, blinking quickly. Where his heart had been thudding before, now he felt a pang when he realized it was Mother Giselle, the Chantry mother who’d joined their ranks in the Hinterlands.

“With time to doubt, they’ve turned to blame,” she told him. Her hand was comforting. It reminded him of being a little boy back in Ostwick; sometimes his mother would come into his room after he’d had a nightmare and lay her hand on his forehead and hum a little lullaby, then stay until he fell back asleep.

Theo struggled to sit up, and she assisted him. _I should not be alive,_ he thought. If Corypheus hadn’t killed him, the avalanche should have. And yet here he was, a bit battered and cold, but alive. “If Corypheus doesn’t kill us, all this infighting will,” he said, and she nodded.

He didn’t know how they’d overheard him—his voice sounded raspy and soft even to him—but his advisors stopped bickering and looked up. He pushed his hair out of his face and tried to swing his legs over the side of his cot, but couldn’t just yet, so they came to him and settled around his bedside on upturned crates. “You didn’t see what I saw,” he said finally, the first words he’d said to much of anyone in days. He explained as much as he could about Corypheus. “It wasn’t mages or templars that made this happen,” he said finally. “It was fanatical belief about the world beyond. We need to stop reaching for the next world and start believing in this one.”

Cullen looked at the ground and rubbed his eyes. Leliana bowed her head and rested her hand on Theo’s knee. Cassandra remained standing with her arms crossed over her chest, but was nodding in agreement, and Josephine was looking around for a quill and parchment. They were all quiet and a little flushed from being called out on their arguing. Theo bit his lip. He felt he should apologize; after all, who was he to chastise some of the most connected people in all of Thedas?

“Shadows fall and hope has fled…steel your heart, the dawn will come…” Mother Giselle sang.

“The night is long and the path is dark; look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come,” Leliana and Cullen joined in.

And suddenly everyone was singing the old Chantry hymn. The voices swelled around him, more joining with each verse, and the choruses echoing off the mountainsides. Soldiers, civilians, and scouts and mages all began to gather around him. Theo’s voice caught in his throat and his eyes felt hot as the first people began to kneel down around him. He was afraid to blink lest it cause tears to spill down his cheeks and make him look stupider than he already did.

It happened anyway. Cassandra knelt and presented her sword to him; Cullen did the same. Even Mother Giselle bent down on her knee in the snow. Theo blinked, trying to get the tears out of his eyes, but it was too much. The voices lifted into the night and his chest swelled.

“You have given us a reason to hope,” Mother Giselle said when the hymn had finished. She rested her hand on his arm and met his eyes.

Theo laughed and wiped his tears with his good arm. “So I have,” he admitted, sniffing. He glanced up when Solas approached, his willowy elven form giving him a measure of quiet that humans just seemed to lack, no matter how they’d trained. “Thank you for helping me,” he said when Mother Giselle got up.

Solas passed his hand over Theo’s injured arm. His hand glowed blue, and Theo felt the ache subside a bit more. “Dorian helped as well,” he said. “His finesse with warming magic probably saved your life. You were nearly frozen to death when you were found.”

Theo blinked and hoped his flush did not show in the shadows. “That was good of him. I’ll have to thank him,” he said a bit formally.

Solas gave no indication that he read below the surface of Theo’s words. “I have some theories about this orb I heard you mention,” he said. “I would like to do more research in the Fade, but for now, the appearance of Corypheus has changed the Inquisition. It has changed you; for the better or worse will remain to be seen. Haven is lost to us, and we cannot hope to remain in the mountains.”

“Where to then?” Theo asked a bit warily.

“To the north there lies a place,” Solas began. “A place that waits for a force to hold it. A place where you can build the Inquisition.”

A shiver went up Theo’s spine as he realized what Solas was insinuating. He looked around. Most people had risen and gone back to their tasks. Even his advisors were busying themselves with anything other than arguing. Josephine occasionally cast guilty glances his way.

He could not go back. He could only go forward. The only way out of this was to see it through.


	8. Homecoming

_Chapter 8: Homecoming_

Even though he was spending time hiking through the rough mountain terrain, Theo was feeling better and stronger with each passing day. Solas had declared his shoulder sufficiently healed to remove the sling and though it was still stiff, Theo felt well enough to practice shooting a light draw recurve bow that Scout Harding let him borrow. His advisors spent evenings in camp glancing at him and whispering; Solas came to tend to his healing injuries and check on his mark. The Iron Bull came to talk with him often, and he always laughed when Theo blushed upon hearing the story of being carried back to camp by the massive man.

“You weren’t walking back yourself, Boss,” he said with a grin. “Besides. How many other people can say a strong and manly Qunari carried their unconscious ass back to camp?”

Krem counted on his fingers. “There was that time Grim got his arse kicked … and then Rocky fell down that shaft…” Bull glared at Krem with his one eye. “My point is,” Krem said to Theo, “you’re not as special as he wants you to think.” But he was smiling, and it eased Theo’s embarrassment.

He did not see much of Dorian; sometimes he caught a glimpse of the mage and his face broke into a smile; but when he tried to catch up with him, Dorian melted into a crowd. For someone who stood out so well, he was frustratingly good at blending in. Theo just sighed. He had too many other things to worry about right now, and he supposed he should just feel fortunate that Dorian had not left yet; at least not before Theo could thank him for helping to save his life.

The fourth morning out they crested a rise and the mountains opened up around them. In a valley between the ranges, a massive keep had been built, seeming to have been carved out of the living stone. No banners waved from its battlements and no forces walked its walls. A bridge of stone, carved from the mountain itself, led into the castle.

“ _Tarasyl’an Te’las._ The place where the sky is kept back,” Solas said, appearing beside Theo. Josephine and Cullen approached, followed by Leliana and Cassandra. “In common tongue it has been called Skyhold. It was once a place of Elven ritual, though over the centuries it has changed hands. It’s remained empty for a long while.”

Theo smiled in spite of himself and didn’t even care how Solas had known this place was here. It was filled with promise, and that was what mattered to him. “Time to fill it up again,” he said, striking off toward the bridge. He didn’t look to see if anyone was following him; the prospect of having a place to settle that was just for the Inquisition, after the days of trudging through ice and snow and bitter winds, was exciting.

The drawbridge was down, as if they were expected; but the winds whistled softly through the gate and the only thing that came to greet them was a flurry of skittering dead leaves. As soon as they came into the main courtyard it felt warmer, less exposed, and the sun shone down more softly. Theo surveyed the enormous walls bearing down on them. To say Skyhold was in a state of disrepair would be an understatement, but it was far better than camping in the mountains indefinitely. And they could repair it, make it their own. Make it permanent. Everywhere Theo had ever lived had been temporary. He stared up at the front entry and decided right then that this would be home. Forever.

He started up the stairs toward the front entry and turned to find that only Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine had followed; everyone else waited below, watching expectantly. “What?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

“We have been speaking amongst ourselves the whole way here,” Cullen began. “The Inquisition requires a leader. You’ve already been leading through your choices,” he said when Theo tried to protest.

Theo shook his head to clear it and wondered if he’d heard correctly. Both Leliana and Josephine nodded; below, Cassandra and Solas waited, as did the Iron Bull, his Chargers, and… yes, just off to the side, Dorian. His heart twisted in his chest. “This was unanimous? You all really have that much faith in me?” he asked. It suddenly felt hard to breathe, and he wasn’t sure if it was pride or panic that swelled in his chest.

Cullen nodded. “We do, but more importantly, _they_ do. They will follow, Theodane. Where you lead, we all will follow. We are with you until the death.”

Suddenly Leliana was holding out an ornate sword and Josephine was smiling, but muttering for him to take it. Theo had never held a sword before; always a bow. “It’s ceremonial,” Josephine hissed between her teeth, smiling all the while.

“Your leader!” Cullen bellowed and was greeted by raucous cheering. Theo looked over the sea of people below. “Your herald!” More cheering. Theo was dizzy with it all. “Your… _Inquisitor!”_

Theo took a deep breath and took the sword. It was heavier than he’d imagined; he needed two hands, and his left arm was still weak; somehow he managed to hold it aloft. The roar of all those people filled the silent courtyard. They had followed him from Haven and through the mountains and were willing to settle here, all because of him.

No, he thought, lowering the sword. As he did the cheers faded. “This Inquisition isn’t about me,” he began, surprised by the sound of his voice. He sounded sure and calm, though he certainly didn’t feel that way. “It is about each and every one of you and what you believe. It is about making our world safe again. The red templars acted under the influence of Corypheus, and it is Corypheus who must be stopped!” The mere thought of that _thing_ demanding that he kneel, just because it commanded him, stirred up anger Theo didn’t realize he possessed. “We will find vengeance for Haven, and we will put an end to this evil!”

“Well done,” Josephine said as they headed into the main hall; they could still hear the cheers of the people in the courtyard. Cullen took the sword, much to Theo’s relief. “You handled that quite well, and without any briefing.” She was smiling, though she looked around at the dilapidated hall with a critical eye as she redecorated in her mind. He could see her thinking about presentation, guest comfort… she never stopped.

“Why did you spring that on me?” Theo demanded.

“If you had time to think about it you would have declined,” Leliana said. “You had to act in the moment. Those choices made in the moment, without time to think, are born of true character.”

“You tricked me,” Theo said, but his face hurt from smiling so much. “I’m glad you did, to be honest,” he added. He looked around the derelict great hall. There was so much to do. “Where to start?”

“We’re going to have to learn more about Corypheus if we want to be able to out maneuver him,” Cullen said.

Leliana smiled. “We do know one of his plans, at least. We saw it in the future at Redcliffe.” Only Leliana would be able to see something positive in that damned-to-the-Void vision, Theo thought. “He’d assassinated Celene; when Orlais fell, that opened the floodgates to allow Tevinter to move through the South. If we can save Celene…”

“We can disrupt his plans,” Theo said with a grin. “You’re brilliant.”

“Is Corypheus allied with Tevinter?” Cullen asked.

Theo shrugged. “I don’t know. But I can certainly find out.” He’d been looking for an excuse to learn more about the Tevinter Imperium anyway.

 

* * *

 

There was too much to do in that first week of settling in for Theo to do much research. He had to get used to this business of being the Inquisitor. People bowed when he passed; they addressed him as ‘Your Worship’ and they listened when he spoke. There were scout teams to send out to various parts of Orlais and Ferelden; camps were set up, correspondence interrupted, Venatori agents captured and questioned.

“Hey, your Inquisitorialness!” Varric called as Theo tried to head up to the library for the umpteenth time today alone. They’d been receiving shipments of texts and scrolls from all over Thedas: universities looking to get into the Inquisition’s good graces. And he’d overheard rumors that Dorian liked to spend time up there. He still had to thank the mage.

“Varric,” Theo said with a smile. “I think I preferred ‘Fletch’, personally. It’s certainly easier to say,” he added.

Varric shrugged. “I call it like I see it. Besides, maybe Fletch can be your undercover name. When you run off in the night to woo women and dole out vigilante justice.”

Theo blushed. “Inquisitorialness is fine, Varric. Did you need me?”

Varric glanced around and stepped closer to Theo. “I have connections, as you well know.” Theo nodded. “And… well, I know someone. She’s dealt with Corypheus before. And you should know that… well, I have too.”

This was news. “Can she help?” Varric nodded. “Do what you can to get her here. Introduce us.” He smiled and took his leave, wondering what about Varric’s contact made him so nervous. Oh well. Let Josephine or Leliana deal with it. Theo had other matters to tend to.

He passed through the atrium with its crumbling plaster walls. The harsh cawing of the ravens in the rookery echoed all the way down here. He headed up the staircase into the library, a circular room that overlooked the atrium below and had a view of the rookery above. Theo wasn’t sure that the noisy ravens were the most conducive to a library atmosphere, but there were other issues to look into.

Hazy sunlight filtered through the dusty windows. Books had been stacked by each of the alcoves waiting to be filed away. The shelves were still dusty, though the cobwebs had been removed. Fiona was working with a few mages to catalogue magical texts. She still didn’t look at Theo, as if embarrassed by her initial choice to side with Alexius. Still, he tried to smile and wave anyway. Did Inquisitors smile and wave? He shook his head; he still had so much to learn.

He found Dorian in a little alcove poring over a book in the sunlight; occasionally his mustache twitched and he looked like he might sneeze from all the dust.   Theo cleared his throat and Dorian looked up. “Settling in?” he asked, feeling suddenly shy even though he’d been the one to seek Dorian out.

Dorian closed the book, and Theo wondered how he would remember what page he was on. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but I suppose it will do eventually. At least there is an adequate library.” He stood and stretched languidly. “I’ve not seen you in some time… I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Theo blushed. “No, I’m just trying to figure out this Inquisitor business.” _And I thought you were avoiding me._ “I never got to thank you. Solas told me how you helped save me. So… thank you.” Whenever he thought about it he felt embarrassed that anyone, but especially Dorian, would have seen him like that.

“You’re most welcome,” Dorian said with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

“He also said you nearly spent all your mana. Why? Isn’t that dangerous?” Theo asked.

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall beside the window. “Well, the Inquisition needs an Inquisitor. I couldn’t very well let you freeze to death.”

“I hadn’t been named Inquisitor yet.”

Dorian shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s my mana, and I’ve always been a bit reckless anyway. Keeps my life from getting too dull.” His lips curved in a playful smile. “Besides, I got to have my hands all over you.”

Theo’s face and ears burned. “Well, I guess I can’t complain,” he said, staring at the floor.

Dorian’s laugh echoed in the atrium. “At any rate, I came to help the Inquisition. If saving your life so you could become Inquisitor is the only thing I do, I’m sure that would be enough. Rest assured though, it is not the only thing I plan on doing. I can imagine myself in this for the long haul,” he said, looking around the library. But he was still smiling, as if the dusty room held a certain charm for him.

“Well,” Theo said. He hadn’t quite been expecting that. “I’m glad you’ll be staying.” He cleared his throat and tried to avoid Dorian’s amused gaze. “I also wanted to know if you’ve been able to learn anything about Corypheus. Since he’s Tevinter and all,” Theo said after an awkward moment.

Dorian’s grin faded. “When Alexius tried to recruit me to the Venatori, I assumed their Elder One was another Magister. And now we discover that the Elder One is not only a Magister, but one of those that became the first darkspawn.” He sighed. “Not all Tevinters are like him, though. Then again, not all Tevinters are like me. I can’t help that I have idiot countrymen.”

Theo leaned against a shelf. “You’re not responsible, and anyone who thinks you are, just because of where you’re from, is just as much of an idiot.”

Dorian looked out the window, staring at nothing. “I do appreciate your faith in me, though I suppose few others share your sentiment.” He sighed. “I was born and bred in Tevinter, and it will always be my home to some degree. I was raised on the tales of the Blight’s inception, but to suddenly realize that the tales are truth? It’s a bit much to sort through, even for someone as intelligent as myself.”

Theo grinned in spite of himself, at the way Dorian could go from melancholy to preening in a matter of moments. “You’re very confident,” he said.

Dorian turned and fixed him with an amused stare. “You would be too, if you were me. The product of a long and honored bloodline, distilled for the perfect blend of power and intelligence? Not to mention a certain degree of looks? What?” He asked suspiciously when Theo said nothing, but just stood there smiling.

“Just enjoying the show,” Theo said in spite of himself and trying to ignore the very distracting tingle that he was feeling all over. “Thank you for the information on Corypheus.”

Dorian looked almost disappointed. “That’s all? A bit of shop talk and you’re off to bigger, better things?”

“Just off to other things,” Theo said quickly. “Certainly not better.”

Dorian watched him, seeing more deeply into him than Theo would have liked. “Well. You are the Inquisitor, after all, for which I suppose congratulations are in order. Besides,” he said as Theo turned to head back down the stairs, “I do enjoy watching you leave.”

Dorian’s laughter echoed after him. Of all the things Theo was grateful for at that moment, the greatest was knowing that no one had seen the Inquisitor nearly fall down the stairs.


	9. Loyalties

_Chapter 9: Loyalties_

Dorian had been groomed to stand out, but over the last few years he’d become quite adept at blending in. There were so many people crowded into the great hall that it was easy to duck his head and slip through the crowd unnoticed. The room still needed quite a bit of repair, but then again, so did all of Skyhold. Masons and artisans had arrived by the dozens in the last week; scaffolding had been built up along the crumbling walls inside and out, and the hold had been filled with the sounds of mallets and scraping trowels. It was enough to give him a headache, and some nights he thought he heard those sounds in his dreams. Maybe he was just grinding his teeth.

The masons had cleared out of the hall for this, though. The Inquisitor was expected to preside over his first case and judge the first criminal of the Inquisition: Gereon Alexius.

Dorian wasn’t certain what he felt; part of him wished Alexius the harshest punishment Theo could exact. But he also felt so much pity for the man he had been, and what he’d become. As they dragged Alexius in from the dungeons in his lyrium shackles he didn’t look at anyone. His two guards stopped before the dais on which sat the Skyhold Throne, a massive and unwieldy seat made from the upper jaw of a dragon. Theo didn’t look uncomfortable, exactly; more like determined and as a result, a bit awkward, which Dorian found inexplicably endearing.

 _Fasta vass._ His mentor was being judged for serious crimes against the Inquisition and he was admiring the Inquisitor.

Josephine Montilyet stood to Theo’s right. “As gratitude for restoring Redcliffe, the Fereldan crown has remanded custody and the judgment of Gereon Alexius to the Inquisition. He is charged with apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination of a political figure. Namely, you,” she said with a glance at Theo. The Inquisitor’s brow was furrowed and he leaned forward slightly as he listened. “Tevinter has stripped him of all rank and disavowed him.”

Theo nodded. He stared at Alexius. “These are grave charges. I remember what would have happened had you succeeded.”

Alexius refused to look at him. “Render your judgment, Inquisitor. Nothing matters now that I couldn’t save my son.”

Dorian did feel a pang in his chest at the despondency in Alexius’s voice. Part of him wanted to run to his old mentor and tell him he’d heard from his son; Felix had written Dorian recently. He’d made it back to Tevinter and had an appointment with the Magisterium. His health continued to decline, but he hoped to tell what he knew before it was too late. The thought of Felix dying alone without his father, or without Dorian next to him was a lot for Dorian to bear, but Felix assured him he would be fine.

Theo leaned back in his seat and was silent for a long while as he stared at Alexius. “Gereon Alexius,” he said at last. “You came to Ferelden to assist the rebel mages, and I see no reason for you to abandon that purpose. You are remanded to the custody of Grand Enchanter Fiona, and will assist her in training, equipping, and preparing the mages.”

Alexius finally looked up. Dorian could not see his face, but was certain it was a mask of fury and hatred. “A headsman would have been kinder,” he snarled as his chains were unlocked and Fiona came forward to escort him.

For his part Dorian found Theo’s sense of irony quite refreshing. He’d have to tell him at some point, assuming he could get him away from all of his adoring new fans.

Dorian slipped out of the main hall, intending to head for the library again. His quarters were chilly and dusty; the little wooden cabin in Haven had been preferable. The library alcove was also dusty, but the sunlight was warm and the overstuffed chair comfortable; and the smell of the books almost reminded him of his time in the Vyrantium Circle. If he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply (and managed not to sneeze) he could still imagine he was there. He’d left Tevinter so suddenly; he wondered if he could ever go back.

Then he thought of his parents and did not want to go back. If it meant freezing in the mountains, he would not return to his family—if they could even be called that after what they did…

“Am I bothering you?”

Dorian opened his eyes and saw Theo leaning around a bookshelf, looking tired, but smiling shyly. “No, I thought I’d come up for some quiet time.”

“So I am bothering you.”

“I can enjoy quiet time with company,” Dorian said. He gestured to another chair in the alcove. “Care to join me and discuss boring ancient texts? Honestly, we need to speak with Lady Montilyet and convince her to import some Nevarran romance novels.”

“I didn’t peg you as the romantic sort,” Theo said with a smile. He hesitated for a moment before taking the seat offered to him. “Actually I needed quiet time too. After that judgment… I’ve never had to do anything like that before. Hold a man’s life in my hands.” He looked as if he’d been up half the night considering Alexius’s fate. For all Dorian knew, he had. “I’m sorry. I guess because he was your mentor…”

“You wanted my approval?” Dorian asked. Theo chewed on his bottom lip uncertainly (and distractingly). “As the Inquisitor you will have difficult choices to make, and not everyone will always approve of them. As I’m not one of your advisors, I’m not sure why you think my approval matters.” He kept his voice calm, but he could see he’d struck a nerve. “I suppose I’m not accustomed to people caring what I think. That was brash of me.”

Theo shrugged. “I guess I also just needed someone to talk with, who’s not going to try telling me what to do.”

“And you think I’m that person? You flatter me, Inquisitor.”

“Theo,” he said. “Please, just Theo. Look, I still get the feeling that Cassandra and my advisor team are waiting for me to screw up. Solas is... well, he’s Solas. He’s mysterious and I’m never quite sure if he’s listening to me, or to something he hears from the Fade. Varric’s helpful, but you…”

“Are far more attractive than the dwarf, yes, I know,” Dorian said with a grin as Theo’s cheeks reddened. Maker, the man was easy to embarrass. “I’m sorry. I tease you too much, don’t I.”

Theo shrugged and half-smiled. “It’s alright; everyone around here is so damned serious. What I was _going_ to say is that I’m always afraid Varric will turn me into a character in his books.” He stood and stretched out his lean frame. “I need to get outside. Do you…want to join me?” he asked without looking at Dorian.

Dorian would never have thought that someone like Theo Trevelyan would make his stomach twist about in his abdomen. “It is a bit dreary in here, and I dare say some fresh air would be good after today’s events.”

They headed out into the courtyard, and Dorian could hardly miss the suspicious glare Mother Giselle flashed him, as if she were indignant that he would dare spend time with the Inquisitor. “Do you ever tire of having these Chantry sorts around?” he asked.

Theo shrugged. “Sometimes. I guess it comes with the territory. Though I don’t suppose the Herald of Andraste is supposed to say such things,” he added with a laugh. “Is the Chantry in Tevinter as obnoxious?” he asked. As it turned out he was full of many questions about Tevinter.

Dorian found he enjoyed talking about home. “I left about three years ago,” he explained after Theo’s barrage of questioning. “I do miss it, blood magic and all. Oh, I don’t practice blood magic,” he said quickly when Theo’s head snapped up and he fixed Dorian with a worried stare. Dorian stared back. “Maker. But you _do_ have lovely eyes,” he said suddenly. Felix and Relenus had both had eyes dark as night, liquid pools he could fall into. But Theo’s eyes were like leaves and grass and warm summer days.

Just now he was blinking rapidly. “I… could say the same for you,” Theo said and looked away. “I should go back before Leliana has to send Scout Harding and a search party out after me,” he said.

“Just think about the scandal,” Dorian agreed, though he was slightly disappointed, and also a bit angry with himself for taking it too far. He’d never had a problem seducing a man, but usually he made certain that the man in question wouldn’t mind being seduced. This was the Inquisitor, the bloody Herald of Andraste. This was going to be Relenus all over again. _Venhedis._

Theo stared up at the sky for a moment. If Dorian looked closely he could see his pulse fluttering at the base of his neck. He turned away quickly before Theo caught him looking. “I learned one useful thing growing up in Ostwick.”

“Just the one?”

“Pretty much,” Theo said, but he did not grin. He was the Inquisitor and had outwitted certain death at least twice, and he was still bitter about that pithy Free Marches holding? “I learned that no matter what you do, people will talk.”

“Talk can be damaging,” Dorian pointed out. Maker, the talk that must have gone around the Imperium when he ran away… and his father probably did everything he could to deflect blame from himself.

“Only if you value their opinion of you,” Theo said with a shrug.

“You’re the Inquisitor,” Dorian said. It was clear that, for all his good intentions and determination, Theo did not yet quite understand what that meant. “Your reputation…”

“Will be determined by my choices and my actions. And I won’t let petty gossip determine _those_.”

Dorian chuckled in spite of himself. “You’re a rare breed, Theodane. I feel like I’ve stumbled upon a unicorn. You should go find Lady Montilyet, though. You may not care about scandal, but I feel it’s a bit early in your Inquisitorial career.”

“Are you to be my publicity advisor then?” Theo asked, laughing.

“I am at the service of the Inquisition, your Worship,” Dorian said and bowed ridiculously low. Life in Tevinter hadn’t been conducive to humor; everything was too competitive and focused. It was pleasant and easy to laugh with Theo, and seemed to break some of the tension that was bound to be brought on by the potential apocalypse. Dorian hoped no one was watching him watch Theo walk away. It was a rather lovely view, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

For the next few days Dorian really _did_ avoid Trevelyan; for all Theo’s laughter, Dorian was genuinely afraid he had overstepped his bounds. He avoided the library and tried to settle into his room. New furniture had finally been provided. It was rustic and stocky, but he couldn’t expect much else in this place. The bed linens were clean and decent enough; he’d been raised sleeping in silk, but the last few years had been fur and linen and anything else he could find. He wasn’t going to be too picky. There was a small fireplace which he lit easily with a flick of his hand, and there was a letter that had been left on his writing desk, which had not been there earlier. He found this most curious.

           

_Dearest Dorian,_

 

_I hope this missive finds you well. I just stood on the Magisterium floor and told all those old, self-important cocks about your Inquisitor. Some were most impressed by his talents; others seemed to find his existence worrisome. But such is the Magisterium. Unfortunately there was little way of keeping your involvement out of it._

_I know nothing will erase the things I did when I was with my father and the Venatori, but this will help me atone. I fear that this will be my last great task in this life; I feel weaker every day, and I don’t doubt that by the time you read this letter I will probably be dead. Please do not think less of me. You were like a brother to me, sometimes more. I will always cherish you and hope the best for you and your involvement in the Inquisition._

_Felix_

_PS: Your father was present at the Magisterium session. He tried to ask me if I’d spoken with you. I pretended to faint._

Dorian sat down on the edge of his bed and reread Felix’s letter. He could almost hear Felix’s voice in his ear, speaking it to him. The thought that he would never see Felix again, even if he did return to the Imperium, was difficult to wrap his mind around. And then he reread the postscript. His father had asked about him. He didn’t know if he felt pleased or terrified. His father now knew he’d joined the Inquisition. With all that the Inquisition stood for, it may as well have been the enemy of the Imperium.

The sun was beginning to set so he lit a lamp with another flick of his fingers and settled in with one of the books from upstairs. It was in Arcanum, a language he’d studied in Vyrantium. It had been a long time since he’d read it, and he was looking forward to the challenge.

“Magister Pavus?” came the muffled voice through his door, accompanied by a knock.

Dorian sighed and dropped the book on his bed. No matter how often he explained that he was not really a magister, just because he was a mage from Tevinter, it never seemed to stick. He pasted a smile on and opened the door.

“The Inquisitor would like to see you,” the messenger said. “He’s in the war room with the advisors.”

So not a clandestine meeting under the stars then. Dorian didn’t feel particularly disappointed, though it would have been nice. Perhaps Theo had decided to appoint him publicity advisor after all. He smoothed his hair and followed the page through the drafty halls. The work was getting done little by little, and it occurred to Dorian that Theo intended to make this a permanent dwelling—not merely a temporary quarters for the Inquisition. Dorian was having enough trouble thinking beyond the end of the day. Yes, they’d outwitted Alexius’s nightmare, but the presence of Corypheus made it difficult to think of a calm and happy future.

They passed through the anteroom that had become Lady Montilyet’s office, just between the grand hall and the war room itself. The halls were quiet and Dorian was transported back to a time when he’d been a young boy being led to his father’s study by a slave, usually over something he’d done wrong.

He was surprised to find that Theo and his advisors were also joined by the Iron Bull, Varric, and an unfamiliar woman. She was clearly a mage, and an angry one. Dorian could feel the currents of mana rolling off of her into the air. All it would take was one step into the Fade and he was certain he’d see the tentacles of her magic flailing about like some leviathan ready to take down a ship.

Theo looked up when he came in and he smiled. “Dorian. This is Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall. Or… she was.”

The Champion just gave a haughty nod in greeting, which Dorian returned. He’d heard stories about the Champion, and was fascinated that she’d taken to Force magic. So few did. He’d have to ask her about it. And maybe about Anders if he got the chance. He always enjoyed a little bit of drama.

“Right,” Theo said. He rested his hands on the edge of the war table, a massive shining slab of wood that seemed to grow out of a tree trunk sprouting through the floor. In this room, in this light, he seemed far surer of himself. Each choice he made, each action he took, seemed to grow him more and more. “Leliana had some disturbing news about the Grey Wardens starting to disappear, and Varric remembered that Hawke had a friend who might be able to help,” he said.

“His name is Stroud. His last position was in Crestwood,” she said.

Iron Bull crossed his arms over his chest. “And you want us to go with you,” he surmised. His scarred face broke into a wide smile. “When do we leave?”

“We sent Harding out with the advanced scouts the other day. Reports are starting to come back by raven,” Leliana said. “Crestwood sustained major casualties during the Blight; even though that was ten years ago, you will likely meet some resistance.”

“I’ll send Krem and the other Chargers on ahead to clear a path and help out if you want,” Bull said, and Leliana nodded. “They work fast, which is what you need.”

“Varric and Hawke will go, and it is most wise for the Inquisitor to have a mage along to round out his team. Especially you,” Leliana said to Dorian. “Crestwood is plagued by undead.”

All eyes were on Dorian. How did she figure that out about him? He generally liked to keep his specialization quiet because it tended to put people off. “Fine, I suppose the cat is out of its bag now,” he said rolling his eyes. “I’m a Necromancer. I deal in death, and I’m quite good at it.” He heard the Iron Bull inhale sharply and make a bit of a growling noise. Hawke was staring at him with a fascinated gleam in her bright blue eyes. “I don’t raise the dead,” he snapped at the one-eyed Qunari. “But I’m pleased nonetheless that I’ll be of use.”

Plans were made to depart the next morning, and Josephine gave Dorian a list to give to the quartermaster in order to be supplied. She looked him up and down and paused on his wavy hair and curled mustache. “May Andraste watch over you, and your hair,” she said with a pitying grin. “Crestwood is experiencing heavy rains of late.”


	10. Last Resorts and New Beginnings

_Chapter 10: Last Resorts and New Beginnings_

 

Theo reread the letter Mother Giselle had pressed into his hands as he’d been on his way out the gate, on his horse and everything. He wasn’t surprised that Dorian’s presence made her uncomfortable, but the fact that she’d gone and contacted the mage’s father in Tevinter did not sit well with Theo one bit. No wonder she’d waited until he was heading out on urgent business. She probably knew he’d have something to say about it.

He scowled. He didn’t know if he should be pleased that the Revered Mother was already fearful of him as the Inquisitor; or offended that she was trying to manipulate him like a young and pliable Chantry initiate. Regardless of what Mother Giselle had said Theo was not going to trick Dorian like that. But going outside into the rain and confronting him was another thing.

Still, Theo was the Inquisitor, and as such difficult decisions were bound to fall to him; he was sure this was just the first of many he’d have to deal with regarding his closest followers.

He slipped on his cloak and pulled the hood up. He ran across the camp, his boots squishing in the mud. A fire had been started below a canopy that kept it safe from the rain. Bull, Varric, and Hawke were huddled under the canopy and waved as Theo passed. “Seriously, all that sneaking around, codeword nonsense is complete shit,” Bull was saying. “The trick to being a good spy is not acting like one.” Varric was absorbing all of it.

He paused before Dorian’s tent, his nerves threatening to get the best of him. _You’re a grown man, Theodane,_ he told himself even as he thought his stomach was going to crawl up his throat. “Dorian?” he asked at the crack in the tent entrance. As he waited his mind raced through any number of scenarios that did nothing to calm him. Even the good ones made him more nervous.

The tent flap rustled and Dorian peeked out. His face broke into a smile. “Inquisitor,” he said. “Care to come in from the rain?”

Theo cast one last glance at the fire, but Varric and Iron Bull were still involved in their discussion. “I think Varric’s got a new novel in the works. _The Ben-Hassrath Who Loved Me,_ probably,” he said by way of greeting, and Dorian chuckled and waved him in. Theo ducked his head and stepped inside, slipping off his boots as quickly as he could to minimize the damage the mud was going to cause. “Thank you for coming along,” he said, standing before the tent entrance in his dripping cloak.

Dorian nodded. “I signed on to assist the Inquisition any way I could. If being cold and soaked is of use, then I live only to serve,” he said with his ironic grin. He settled back on the pile of furs and blankets and gestured for Theo to do likewise. His tent was lit by a globe of flames in a small jar he’d placed in the center of the floor. It provided some warmth without a danger of burning the tent down. Theo was still amazed at Dorian’s command of magic, and how easily he used it without even thinking. “Something on your mind?” Dorian asked, watching him.

Theo removed his cloak and took a deep breath. “I have a letter for you,” he said, handing over the missive from Mother Giselle.

Dorian’s grin spread. “Oh, I do hope it’s naughty,” he said. Theo held his breath as Dorian read. His handsome face fell and his gray eyes narrowed. “Why bother giving this to me?” he asked.

Theo shied away from the barely checked rage in Dorian’s voice. “Mother Giselle gave it to me. She’s been in contact with your family and said that there was a retainer for House Pavus in Redcliffe.”

The fire in the jar died to a dull ember. Dorian looked frighteningly pale even in that dim light. His face twisted into a grimace. “Probably some henchman hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter,” he snapped, crumpling the letter in his hand.

“Would your own father do that to you?” Theo asked in a scared whisper. His father barely looked at him; but he’d take that over what Dorian was insinuating. Dorian said nothing. “I would go with you,” Theo ventured, and Dorian looked up. He waved his hand and the flames grew again. “If it is a trap, we escape and kill everyone. We’re good at that.”   Dorian said nothing and still looked troubled. Theo tried to smile. “Dorian…”

The mage sighed and absently toyed with a buckle on his clothing. “To say there’s bad blood between myself and my family is an understatement larger than the Imperium itself,” he said at last. “I don’t care for their choices, and… they don’t care for mine.”

Theo had been trying to relax, but Dorian radiated tension and made it difficult. “I think you should talk to him. Find out what he wants,” he ventured.

“I don’t recall asking what _you_ thought,” Dorian snapped. Theo recoiled as if he’d been slapped. Dorian sighed and rubbed his temples, the letter still clutched in one hand. When he looked up his gray eyes were sad. “I apologize. That was unworthy of me. I… will consider it.”

Theo didn’t trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded and hurriedly got up. He pulled on his boots, nearly falling over, and did not even bother with his cloak. He dashed out into the rain; Dorian didn’t call after him or move, and Theo didn’t know if that hurt worse than his words. _Stupid. So stupid,_ he thought.

“Hey Fletch!” Varric called when he spotted Theo. “I need your opinion!” But Theo continued back to his tent. He slipped through the flaps and buried himself deep into his bedroll. His first task when he got back to Skyhold was to fire Mother Giselle.

* * *

 

Dorian hated feeling like an ass, but this time it truly was his own fault and he truly could not deny it. The moment he’d snapped at Theo and seen the wounded expression on his face, he’d regretted his harsh words. Sorry seemed too blasé; besides, Theo truly hadn’t known the magnitude of what he was suggesting. Dorian had not exactly been forthcoming with that knowledge.

He’d spent the night considering his father’s letter and turning his options over in his mind. He’d sworn when he left Tevinter that he was leaving his family behind forever, so to meet even with a retainer seemed to go against his promise to himself. But what harm could it do? If anything, it would be the opportunity to tell Halward Pavus where to stick his shiny magic staff.

It was a very tempting thought.

Hawke and Varric had taken the lead and were reminiscing about Kirkwall, which in Dorian’s opinion, was an utter shit hole. The Iron Bull walked, leading his horse; sometimes he rode, but even his Ferelden Forder was not built to withstand a Qunari for long distances. Theo rode slightly ahead of him, and Dorian brought up the end. Every time he looked at Theo’s back and slightly slumped shoulders he got a guilty pang in his chest. He didn’t like it.

With a sigh, he spurred his horse into a trot to catch up to Theo. “There’s this thing you should understand about Tevinters,” he began. “We’re excessively proud, which makes many of us come off as asses. And then there are those of us who are genuinely asses. Like myself.”

Theo didn’t look at him. “You’re not an ass, Dorian,” he said. “I would give all of Skyhold for my father to reach out to me. I suppose I assumed wrongly that you would feel the same about yours.”

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ even after the way he’s treated you? Or not treated you, as the case may be.”

Theo did glance at him then, with a ghost of a smile on his pale face. There were deep purple smudges under his eyes; apparently Dorian wasn’t the only one who’d slept poorly. “He’s my father, Dorian. No matter what, there will always be some masochistic part of me that wants him to notice, and possibly even be proud of me.”

Dorian wasn’t sure if he wanted to embrace Theo or smack him across the face. He drew in a deep breath. “ _If_ we were to go to Redcliffe, how far out of our way would we be going?”

“I told the others I got a letter suggesting some residual Tevinter activity in Redcliffe. Hawke and Varric are willing to go on ahead to Crestwood and look for Stroud while you and I go to Redcliffe with the Iron Bull. He seems to think it’s not safe for me to travel alone.”

“With a Tevinter.” Dorian added the words the Qunari had probably really used.

Theo shook his head. “He didn’t say that. He said that since I’m officially the Inquisitor, it’s dangerous for me to be alone. In his words, “people won’t fuck with me as much” if I’ve got a Qunari bodyguard.”

Lovely. Not only was Dorian going to meet with a retainer for his family, but he was doing so while being accompanied by the Inquisitor _and_ a Qunari. His reputation was increasing exponentially. But Dorian just steeled his nerves and forced a smile. He was probably making a mistake, but being around Theo tended to have that effect on him. “As long as it doesn’t jeopardize the Inquisition.”

Theo did look at him then, with a grateful expression on his drawn face. “It won’t.”

Dorian hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

* * *

 

“I’m not comfortable with you going in there alone. Everything about this screams trap,” Bull said. He stared down at Theo, his arms crossed over his chest. “Sure, they _said_ Tevinter disowned that Alexius asshole, but maybe that was to lure you in, too.”

“The Imperium doesn’t use excommunication as a means of trapping someone,” Dorian snapped. He’d been even more on edge as they entered Redcliffe village. Theo had kept some distance, afraid Dorian might lash out again, and frankly, Dorian couldn’t blame him. “You’re wanted or you’re not.”

Bull rolled his eye. “Fine, but I’m waiting right outside the door. Moment I hear anything I don’t like, shit’s getting real.” Ironically, he was smiling, as if he enjoyed the idea of bursting into a room of Tevinters and fighting them all.

Dorian met Theo’s eyes and the Inquisitor nodded. Dorian took a deep breath and entered. The last time he’d been to the Gull and Lantern the tavern had been packed with rebel mages. Now it was completely empty. _Venhedis,_ it _was_ a trap. He held his staff out, poised to strike. Theo already had his bow out and an arrow nocked.

“Dorian.”

His breath caught and his blood went cold as it flowed through his veins. Halward Pavus himself descended the staircase, looking just the same as the day Dorian had left home for good. The whole bullshit story about a retainer was just that. If Dorian came through this alive he meant to have some very strong words with Mother Giselle, and nearly all of them would be in Tevene. “Father,” he said, not sure if it was a greeting or an observation. He felt dirty just saying the word. “What is this then? Ambush? Warm family reunion? Another kidnapping attempt?” he wished he could keep the venom from dripping from his voice, but seeing Halward Pavus again, looking unchanged and self-righteous and calm, stoked Dorian’s rage.

“When Felix stood before the senate and said he’d seen you… I had to know how you were,” his father said. His dark eyes were sorrowful, which only made Dorian even angrier. “I wanted to see you for myself.”

“Well, here I am in all my glory,” Dorian snapped. “Just as much a pariah as ever. And now you get to tell your Magister friends your outcast son has joined the Inquisition as well.” He clutched his staff tightly, imagining that it was his father’s neck.

“Dorian, please…”

“I think Dorian has a right to be angry,” Theo said, surprising the both of them. “He was tricked.” For a moment Dorian had been so angry he’d forgotten that Theo was still with him; he’d lowered his bow, but still twirled an arrow between his fingers. Those eyes of his, so lovely and gentle, were narrowed and focused: the eyes of a hunter. Dorian hadn’t been sure about having Theo along, but it felt good to know Theo was there for him.

Halward gave a melancholy sigh. “And this is the Inquisitor. I’d have expected someone more imposing,” he said, but he sounded more curious than insulting. “This is what you’ve been driven to? Joining this… Inquisition? Why?” He settled down at a table, sitting straight but managing to still look relaxed.

He gestured for his son to join him, but Dorian would never give him that satisfaction. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” Dorian snapped. The air around him crackled with electricity and Theo took a step back. Dorian took a deep breath and calmed his mana. He would not let his father see him lose control. “I wish I could say I’m sorry if it embarrasses you, but I’m not. I won’t be ashamed of who I am.”

Dorian’s pride had always had a way of irritating Halward, and just now his father stared at him with his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. “Do you still think _that’s_ what this is about?”

“It’s what it will always be about,” Dorian said and his voice cracked just a little. “You and your fucking legacy. After what you tried to do you don’t _deserve_ a legacy!” His nostrils flared and it was an effort to gather his mana within him and keep from blasting his father from here to the Void.

“Dorian?” Theo asked quietly from behind him.

_Dammit_. He didn’t mean to be putting on such a show in front of Theo, but his father made him _so angry_. “Perhaps you should know exactly what you walked into,” Dorian said, keeping as calm as possible. Theo didn’t know, but if they were to fight side by side in the Inquisition, he deserved to. “Back home children aren’t born. They’re crafted. Generations of interbreeding and careful selection to distil the perfect mage in power, body, and mind. Any perceived flaw is shameful and must be hidden.”

Theo blinked those big, innocent green eyes. “Flaw?” he asked, brow furrowed and genuinely confused as he looked between Dorian and Halward, who was staring at the ground with his fingertips pressed to his forehead.

Dorian’s lips curved into a cruel grin as he stared at his father. “I prefer the company of men. As in, I will never marry a woman and produce a perfect little mage heir to carry on the Pavus legacy. I would rather sleep with a man and be true to myself than turn into _that,_ ” he said, glaring and pointing the head of his staff at his father.

“Dorian, please,” Halward said. It was an evident effort for him to keep the tension in his voice to a minimum, which pleased Dorian. “Don’t do this.”

“What’s more,” Dorian said, turning back to Theo, “it wasn’t enough for him to hate me for my choices.” He felt like he was being slowly strangled with the memories. “He taught me to hate blood magic, but the moment that he realized I would never be what he wanted he tried to use it. To change me.” Theo inhaled sharply, but when Dorian glanced at him, the Inquisitor merely looked deeply sad. Dorian sighed. “This was a waste of time. I’m leaving.”

Theo shook his head and laid a hand on Dorian’s arm. “Don’t leave it like this,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to make amends. In fact, I’d be surprised if Dorian could forgive you,” Theo said to Halward, which, coming from someone who had such issues with his own father was something. He turned back to Dorian. “But at least talk. I’ll wait. Over here.” He blinked uncertainly before sidling off into the shadows.

Dorian was begrudgingly impressed at how Theo had handled Halward; then again, if the Inquisitor had known anything about Halward going into this, Dorian wasn’t sure Theo would have handled it as well. Dorian hadn’t been alone with his father since the day he’d been dragged home from Orlais. Halward had that same confused expression on his face now that he’d had back then. “I only missed the sound of your voice,” Halward said at last. His shoulders slumped and he looked almost defeated. “I longed to hear it; and the first time I do hear it in years, you were shouting at me.”

“Did you really expect a warm greeting after what you’d done?” Dorian asked. He was torn between following Theo out and blasting his father with his staff. Neither seemed entirely appropriate though. He looked at his father and wished he could feel something: love, sympathy… anything but the festering anger.

“I betrayed your trust. I betrayed my convictions because of foolish, selfish pride. Your friend the Inquisitor is most astute in his observations. I… I would ask your forgiveness.” Halward stared at the tabletop. He couldn’t even look at his own son while attempting to apologize.

Dorian shook his head. He could not believe he was hearing this. “What should I forgive, father? The blood magic? The betrayal? The way nothing I ever did was good enough? That my choice to love a man over a woman blinded you to any other accomplishment to my name?”

He would have loved to hear his father say “all of it”, but Halward was not only a Tevinter Magister, he was also Dorian’s father, and as horridly stubborn as his son. “I betrayed you, and for that I am sorry,” Halward said simply. “I see you’ve even divested yourself of your birthright.” Dorian had been without his birthright amulet for years. His father’s simple observation tugged on a nerve inside of him. “We are so much alike, Dorian,” he said with a sad smile.

Once Dorian would have been overjoyed to hear that, but now he only felt empty and raw. “We are nothing alike, and I don’t know that I _can_ forgive you,” he said. “But since I’m not a complete savage, I _will_ wish you safe travel back to the Imperium. Send my regards to mother, assuming she’s not busy redecorating the house again?” He stared at his father for a moment and then turned away to leave.

“Dorian!” Halward called, but Dorian kept going until he was out the door. Theo was calling after him, but he kept going and did not stop until the edge of the lake stopped him. He leaned against the weathered wall of a fishing hut to catch his breath. He squeezed his eyes closed so tightly he could see stars, and willed the hot tears not to fall. “ _Fasta Vass,_ ” he swore, slamming his fist against the wall.

“Dorian… are you alright?”

He opened his eyes and blinked quickly to clear the film of tears. Theo stood before him, alone, having somehow eluded the watch of the Iron Bull. His hands were jammed into his pockets and a lock of dark brown hair fell into his green eyes. He was biting on his lip and standing back a few paces, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt.

Dorian straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course I’m alright. I just had a lovely conversation with my father. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

Theo sighed and shuffled a step closer, gazing up from under his eyelashes to see if Dorian would react. Dorian realized that he was backed up against a wall with Theo advancing, still biting his lip. “At least you talked with him,” Theo said quietly. “You got the last word.”

“Or something like it.” He looked away from Theo. “At least he didn’t try to force me to return home.”

“You’re an adult, Dorian. Besides, I don’t think anyone could force you to do anything you didn’t truly want to do.” Theo was closer now and Dorian’s innards twisted. He’d wondered about Theo ever since they’d stopped Alexius. The Inquisitor always seemed to be curious about Tevinter, and the more Dorian teased him and flirted with him, the more Theo rose to the occasion. He enjoyed it; but he couldn’t hope; only fools hoped, and Dorian was no fool.

Dorian sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Living a lie… it festers inside of you. You have to fight for who you are,” he said at last, looking up at Theo. “I’m not accustomed to such honesty, particularly from someone in such a position of power as yourself.” Dorian shook his head and looked away. He gave a harsh laugh. “Maker knows what you must think of me after that display.”

Theo’s green eyes were wide. “After that, I can’t possibly think _less_ of you… _more_ if possible.”

That voice. The earnest sincerity. The boy couldn’t lie if his life depended on it, nor could he be any more obvious, and Dorian wanted nothing more than to hold him. Somehow Theo was inching nearer, closing the gap between them. “The things you say,” Dorian said instead, looking away. He couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t let Theo stare into him and see him so undone.

“I mean it,” Theo said. Then his hand was on the back of Dorian’s neck, his thumb lightly caressing his jaw. Dorian’s breath hissed in through his nostrils; Theo’s touch made his chest tighten with longing to feel more, elsewhere. Theo hesitated once, but when Dorian didn’t move away, Theo continued. Then Theo’s forehead was pressed to his. His breath was on Dorian’s face. It took everything Dorian had not to tremble. No. He was Dorian Pavus, he was in control.

He was Dorian Pavus and he was backed against a wall with Theo Trevelyan’s thumb caressing his cheek and making it hard to breathe.

And then Theo’s lips brushed his, so gentle, so delicate it could hardly be called a kiss, but it still left Dorian’s lips tingling. “ _Fasta Vass,_ Theo, what are we doing?” he asked, not moving, not daring to opening his eyes, afraid that it was a dream---or worse, a desire demon preying on him.

Theo’s other hand was on his hip now and Dorian swore he could feel it even through his layers of clothing and leather. And then _he_ was reaching for Theo, tangling his fingers in that tousled chestnut hair and he was kissing him back. Theo was all warmth and light and sweetness. Theo never stopped touching him and it was such a caring, gentle touch—so different from the needy passion Dorian had grown accustomed to from lovers; or the perfunctory kisses and groping he paid for in a whorehouse.

He slipped his other arm around Theo’s waist and pulled him closer, then Theo was bracing himself on the wall with one hand while the other still caressed Dorian’s face so tenderly. Dorian gave in and relaxed, let himself feel the warmth of Theo’s long, strong archer’s fingers.

“Whatever we’re doing, I like it,” Theo whispered. The feeling of his breath on his lips made Dorian shudder.

“That’s good. Because…I rather do too,” Dorian said, and Theo brushed his lips once more: the teasing, tingling non-kiss sweep of his mouth that left Dorian wanting more. More warmth, more tingling, more touching, more Theo Trevelyan.


	11. Dealings Before Feelings

_Chapter 11: Dealings Before Feelings_

 

Theo could only assume he hadn’t been thinking, or that he’d been momentarily possessed. He kept remembering the moment: Dorian’s cheek, hot under his hand; Dorian’s lip trembling with restrained emotion; Dorian’s eyes, glassy with tears that caught in his long lashes. That moment of fear when Dorian hesitated, and the warm waves of overwhelming relief when he kissed back.

Theo was playing with fire, but like the proverbial moth, he couldn’t stay away from the bright flame that was Dorian.

It would take two days to make it to Crestwood. The first night Theo managed to arrange his watch to overlap with Dorian’s. The mage sat on a flat rock, hugging one knee to his chest while the other leg remained outstretched. A small globe of white light hovered over his shoulder, casting shadows on the planes of his face. Theo’s heart skipped once. “Hi,” he said, suddenly shy.

Dorian turned to face him and a smile. “Ah, Theodane,” he said, and sounded relaxed, which helped ease the tension Theo felt all throughout his body. He chuckled. “One of the first things you told me was that you weren’t very good with women. That should have been my cue.”

“Even back then?” Theo asked. His cheeks hurt from trying not to smile.

“Even back then,” Dorian confirmed. “You do know your watch doesn’t begin for some time yet.”

“I know. I just wanted…” What _did_ he want? He stared at the ground, aware of Dorian’s eyes on him even in the dim magelight.

“A repeat of the afternoon?” Dorian asked softly. He slid off the rock and stood a few paces from Theo.

Theo rubbed his neck. “If I said yes?” he asked.

Dorian’s smile spread. “Then I might be inclined to agree with you,” he said. “But… that’s not entirely the reason you’re here, I take it,” he said.

Theo was going to have to ask the Iron Bull how to keep his face expressionless. As much as he loved that Dorian could see into him, it was unsettling at times. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “And I wanted to apologize in case it… well, wasn’t what you wanted.” He was grateful for the darkness because his face was probably a deep crimson shade. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. Even though it was the right thing to do, he felt like vomiting.

Dorian was thoughtful for a long moment, which made Theo even more nervous. “You need not apologize,” he said at last. “I confess if you hadn’t kissed me then, I’d probably be kissing you sooner or later. Most likely sooner. Probably this evening, right up against this rock,” he said so calmly, like it was just the most natural fact in the world. When Theo didn’t move, Dorian’s smile spread. “That was an invitation,” he prompted.

The motions that had come naturally hours ago now felt strange to Theo, but this time Dorian took the lead. He was able to do things with his mouth that Theo didn’t know were possible. It made him shiver and feel a stirring in his breeches that he’d long ignored. He kissed back eagerly, trying to imitate Dorian, but the moves that came so easily to the mage felt awkward to Theo and he pulled back, blushing. “Sorry, I got a bit excited,” he breathed, staring at the ground, at the trees, the dark and starlit sky… anywhere but Dorian.

Dorian trailed a hand over his shoulder and down his arm and Theo shuddered again. “If you’re going to keep apologizing, it may be worth rethinking if this is something you want to happen,” he said, but his voice was even and lacked any hint of teasing.

Theo pushed away his giddiness and made himself stare at Dorian, into his eyes which saw so much. “I do want it,” he said with a nod. “More than anything.”

“More than stopping Corypheus?” Dorian asked, again with no teasing. Theo didn’t answer. “I ask you the hard questions now, so we can determine what this is and where it will go. There is too much on the line for you to risk being distracted by something you don’t want.”

“You’re not a distraction to me, Dorian,” Theo said. The rock behind him was cold and unyielding, and Dorian was in front of him, his hands splayed on the rock on either side of Theo’s shoulders. He was trapped. “I can talk to you. You make me laugh. You treat me like a normal person and not some religious symbol.”

Dorian sighed and looked down. “That’s where things become problematic for us,” he said, shaking his head. “The religious symbol bit. You do recall your Chantry history, yes? The fact it was the Imperium that was responsible for Andraste’s execution?” Theo nodded, confused. Dorian’s smile was ironic. “You are also aware I’m Tevinter?” Theo nodded once more. “It won’t go over well initially.”

Theo sighed and rested his hands on Dorian’s hips. Maker, it felt good to touch him, even at arms’ length. “Well… too bad. I’m the Inquisitor, and if I want to be with a Tevinter, I will,” he said with a shrug and a smile that he didn’t really feel.

“They’ll talk, is all I’m saying; and while you say you do not care what they think of you, I do. The Inquisition is in its early stages, and you have a great deal to accomplish. You cannot be undermined, and I don’t want to be the one to undermine you.”

“Are you saying that you _don’t_ want this?” Theo asked, voice trembling.

Dorian’s hands drifted to his arms. His touch was firm and certain. “I also want it more than anything. But I think right now discretion is prudent. I would not deny myself, nor deny you; but there is something larger than our desires at stake that must be considered.”

Theo nodded. He didn’t like it, but Dorian made sense. He was older and more experienced in these matters, and Theo knew that he needed to take it to heart. “I’ll do my best,” he said finally, with a slight sigh.

Dorian smiled and relaxed; he too had been nervous about this talk, which made Theo feel relieved that he was not alone in this. “I’ll leave you to your watch.” He leaned in and kissed Theo lightly before heading toward his tent. He cast a glance back at Theo over his shoulder. He was still smiling.

The next night the watches were the same. Bull never said anything, just accepted his turn and went to sleep. Theo had to pinch himself a few times when he joined Dorian on the darkened edge of camp. It was still surreal to feel Dorian’s touch; to see him so close he could see the tiniest flecks of gold in his eyes; or to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and inhale his sweet and slightly spicy scent. He closed his eyes and in his mind this was what Tevinter smelled like.

“Back to reality,” Dorian said softly, resting a hand on Theo’s knee. “If I’m gone too long he’ll notice.”

“He’s sleeping,” Theo said, eyes still closed, still pretending.

“I believe Bull sleeps with one eye open,” Dorian said.

“He only _has_ one eye.”

Dorian chuckled. “Please, give this time. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased by this, but I’d also like to be discreet for your benefit. You are still young in your role as the Inquisitor, and that must come first.” He squeezed Theo’s knee lightly and stood. “Have a good watch,” he said with a smile, and then bent down and kissed Theo on the cheek. His mustache tickled.

Theo smiled, even though he wished Dorian would stay. “Sleep well,” he called after him, then turned to watch the perimeter of their camp so he wouldn’t have to watch Dorian walk away.

When they finally did get to Crestwood in the middle of a cold autumn downpour there was plenty to be done, and it kept his mind off of having to pretend nothing was happening with Dorian. The Chargers had captured Fort Bronach and raised the Inquisition’s flag. Other Inquisition soldiers had poured in to help clear out the bandits taking advantage of Ferelden’s current state of chaos. The mayor of the village of New Crestwood had vanished, and there was a massive Fade rift in the middle of the lake that they couldn’t reach.

“Harding’s working on tracking down the mayor,” Krem briefed them. “I don’t know that you want to take a boat out to tackle that rift, though. Every time we go near the water the dead come out. Spooks the men something bad,” he said, and from the way he shuddered it was clear he was among those spooked. “Varric and Hawke went out two nights ago, but haven’t come back yet. I can send out a scout if you want,” he said to Theo.

“I think they’ll be fine,” Theo said. “Hawke looks like she can take care of herself, and Varric could talk his way out of anything. Besides, he’s got Bianca. If they’re not back by noon tomorrow we’ll head out.” Krem nodded, and out of the corner of his eye, Theo saw Bull nod as well and felt oddly pleased. Josephine’s earliest advice to him had been to delegate tasks; this was too large an operation for him to tackle by himself.

He leaned against the battlements and stared out through the rain and into the lake. The Fade rift wavered over the water and the rain distorted the green light it emitted. His gaze swept over the horizon and paused on a structure built upon a jetty. He squinted. “Krem, did any of the townspeople say what that place is?”

Krem joined him. “There used to be a tavern there before the dam was built.”

Theo straightened up, interested. “I’m going to check it out.”

“I’m going with you,” Bull said.

“I wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving you behind,” Theo said with a grin. “Dorian?” he asked, and something about saying the mage’s name now, after what was transpiring between them, made his heart flutter. “It’s likely we’ll face some undead,” he said. “Would you join us?”

Dorian couldn’t have missed the stiff formality in Theo’s voice, but he made no indication that anything was amiss. “Gladly. It will give me the opportunity to prove that Necromancy is a respectable school of magic.” His hair was plastered down by the rain, but he maintained a haughty expression.

Krem joined them and briefed Bull some more as they headed to the old tavern. It was good to be out of the rain; but the inside smelled musty and dank, and it wasn’t much warmer. Theo scouted about and found the dam controls in room behind the bar. The pump controls were stuck in place, and it took Bull and Krem a good amount of pushing and swearing before they could get it to budge. Theo helped as he could, and Dorian looked on, amused.

“It’s going to take some time for the reservoir to empty,” Bull said, leaning against a wall. “I’m all for sleeping here while we wait, and tackling the Fade rift in the morning.”

Krem was already unbuckling his breastplate. Theo was soaked, but the walk back to the fort wasn’t going to help that, and besides, they’d have to come back here in the morning in the rain as well. Dorian, however, didn’t seem happy. “What, with no blankets? No fire?” he asked. He looked almost terrified.

Bull shrugged. “You’re a mage, you make fire.”

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ you are impossible,” Dorian snapped. But he did fling his hand out toward the hearth, and a fire erupted. “Are you happy?” he asked with a disdainful sneer at Bull before he went off to sulk in the corner.

Theo followed. “Thanks for the fire,” he said.

Dorian nodded. “Of course. I’ll be interested to see what you think when you see my true talent.” He smiled, but looked almost nervous. “Necromancy is a delicate art, and yet it was something I took to early on.”

Theo sat down on the dusty wooden floor. “Could you tell me about it?” he asked. “I don’t understand magic, but it’s fascinating.”

Dorian’s lips curved into a teasing grin. “Are you sure it’s the magic that’s fascinating and not me?” he asked in a low voice.

“Both,” Theo said, returning the grin. He leaned against a wall and listened as Dorian explained the basics of his Necromancy, and tried to explain what he felt when casting a spell. “It’s sort of how I feel when I shoot,” Theo mused. “The bow just fits into my hand like an extension of my arm. I draw and just feel it as part of me. When my arm was broken, I was afraid,” he said without looking at Dorian. “I’ve been shooting for as long as I can remember, maybe longer. I don’t know what it is not to hold a bow. I make my own arrows, too,” he said, and suddenly felt almost embarrassed at the way he was going on.

“Could you show me?” Dorian asked, genuinely curious. “I made my staff. I appreciate craftsmanship and fine things,” he said with a meaningful look at Theo.

Theo felt a flutter of pride and removed an arrow from his quiver. Dorian took it from him, his fingertips brushing over Theo’s hand. He held it between two fingers and examined it. “This is lovely,” he said at last. “Hard to believe such a piece of work can be so deadly.”

“I could say the same of your magic,” Theo said.

“Hey Boss!” the Bull called from the other side of the room, and Theo’s head snapped up. He blushed furiously; he’d been so engrossed in conversing with Dorian that he’d almost forgotten about Bull and Krem. “The door bars from the inside, and I’m fucking tired as balls, so I’d like to make an executive Ben-Hassrath decision that we don’t need a watch tonight,” he said with a loud yawn.

Theo laughed. “I’ll take your expert opinion,” he said. He got up and looked around the old tavern. Sadly all of the alcohol was gone, but he did find some burlap sacks. He hefted up a pile and brought them over to Bull. “It’s not a fluffy Orlesian pillow, but it might work,” he said with a grin.

Bull took them from Theo. “Did you find those out behind the bar?” he asked, and Theo nodded. “Krem, can you go get some of these too?” he asked. Krem opened his mouth with a retort, but there must have been something on the Bull’s face that made him think better of it, and he left them alone. “Boss,” Bull began, voice low, and Theo’s stomach dropped into his feet. “I’ve seen the way you and Dorian are looking at each other,” he began. “And I’ve got nothing against it, even if he is Tevinter; you’re an adult and can make that choice. But as someone who’s been in the trenches with this sort of thing, just remember to keep your dealings above your feelings,” he said.

Theo swallowed and his cheeks burned. When he dared look up, the Bull’s face was kind and he was smiling; his one eye looked deep into Theo. “Thank you, Bull,” Theo finally managed to say. “Your expertise—and your honesty are helpful.”

“Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Boss. You’ve got a long road ahead that’s going to be tough enough.”

Theo nodded. That much was true. But something else stuck in his mind. “Bull… I think you’re the first person who’s called me an adult.” Bull cocked his head to the side and Theo sighed. “I haven’t been treated as one until very recently, so it takes some getting used to.”

The Bull shook his head. “See, that’s crap,” he said. “Under the Qun, you are or you aren’t. You’re a warrior or you’re not, you’re Ben-Hassrath or you’re not. You’re an adult, or you’re not. You came of age, so you’re an adult.”

Theo rubbed the back of his neck. “You make it sound so easy,” he said. “I’m the youngest of six, and the third son at that; so my parents never really treated me as much of anything. I’m having to figure out what it is to be an adult at the same time as I’m figuring out what it means to be an Inquisitor,” he said with an embarrassed smile.

“Growth is a process, and it doesn’t happen alone. Even in the Qun we have Tamassrans who guide us,” the Bull said. “You’re a good guy, Boss, and you’ve got good people around you to help.”

“I’m very fortunate. Thanks, Bull,” Theo said, truly grateful.

By then Krem had reappeared with another pile of sacks. He flashed a glance at Bull, who nodded once. “Thanks, Krem,” he said more loudly. “I’m getting some sleep. Rest well, Boss.”

By then Dorian’s fire had begun to die down. Theo wasn’t sure where to go. He knew that Bull was watching him now, and that meant Krem probably kept an eye on him too. The thought of Iron Bull writing reports to the Ben-Hassrath about his budding romance made him feel a bit odd, but they all had jobs to do, he supposed.

He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled dark hair before walking back to where Dorian was sitting, deep in thought. But he looked up and smiled when Theo offered him a couple of burlap sacks to use as a pillow. “Unless you wanted to use me,” he said in a low voice.

Dorian sighed, but he was smiling. “Not that I wouldn’t love to, believe me. But we have a Ben-Hassrath spy across the room,” he teased.

Theo shrugged. Dorian was right, but he could still be disappointed. “Hey, I can dream,” he said, and curled up before the hearth.

* * *

 

In the morning the sound of rain still pounded on the roof and Theo had a stiff neck. He grimaced and looked around. “Mage boy’s outside,” Krem said from across the room. He was busy strapping on his armor. “The lake’s drained enough and he’s taking a look at the undead situation. Freaky as shit, it is, but he seems okay with it, so I’m not going to complain.”

Theo nodded his thanks and stretched. He’d slept in his leather armor and felt stiff all over, but he slung his quiver at his side and his bow over his shoulder, and headed out into the rain. He paused to watch Dorian, standing at the edge of what was once the lake, practically dancing with his magic. The corpses, submerged for over a decade, pulled themselves from the mud and shambled toward Dorian, draped in tattered skin and scraps of clothing. As Theo watched it seemed as if Dorian commanded deep purple-black shadows that rolled over the shambling undead. Those touched by the shadow either fell over motionless, or else caused the corpse to turn on the others. Those the shadow did not affect felt the power of Dorian’s primal spells: fireballs and lightning bolts flashed through the rain.

Theo nocked an arrow, took aim, and let it fly into the eye socket of a corpse. If Dorian noticed, he did not break concentration. Theo nocked another arrow and soon he was fighting alongside Dorian in companionable silence. Finally Dorian paused. “There are too many,” he said. “If I go into the Fade and attack the issue from that side, we may stand a chance. Would you be so kind as to keep me covered?” he asked with a smile.

“You know I can’t say no,” Theo said, already firing another volley at the shambling army coming their way. Less than a week and already he couldn’t deny Dorian. He kept firing as Dorian went quiet behind him. He trusted his hunter’s senses to keep him aware of his surroundings, and was able to move out of the way when Bull burst into the fray, wielding a massive maul. Krem joined with sword and shield and took out what undead made it past the Bull.

Dorian’s hand was on Theo’s shoulder, and he fired a stray arrow. He rarely ever did that. “What’s wrong?” he asked. His eyes widened when he saw Dorian’s pallor.

“You’ll have to close that rift if we hope to make it out of this intact,” Dorian said. He fought to maintain the smoothness of his voice, but Theo could hear the tremble of exhaustion. “The demons coming through the rift are stirring the dead.”

“You heard him,” Theo said to Bull and Krem. “It’s probably not too deep out there anymore. And we’re soaked through anyway, so let’s go.” The last time he’d felt this determined, this ready, had been the day he closed the Breach itself. It seemed so long ago, and already he was a different person; then he’d been the unwanted child struggling to be someone, and now he was the Inquisitor. This was what he’d been made to do.

He waded closer to the Fade rift and his palm tingled. He focused on the wall of wavering light in the air in front of him and held up his hand, initiating the magical connection between his mark and the rift.

This was far easier than closing the Breach, but the location provided its own unique challenges. Krem found it hard to keep his footing in the squishy lake bottom mud. The water only came to the Bull’s knees, but it was still enough to slow him down. Theo’s own feet were sinking and when he tried to pull them out of the mud his feet stuck. He’d worry later. He thought of all those corpses denied rest and proper burial, and forced to reanimate and haunt the living, all because this rift had opened up over their watery grave.

They deserved rest; their families deserved peace. He focused on the line of power between his hand and the rift with everything inside of him. The buzzing of the rift grew to a cacophony in his head, and just when he thought his skull might split open, the rift exploded in a flash of bright light and was gone. The corpses that had been coming toward them stopped and collapsed. Theo swayed and fell backward on his arse in the water.

“You alright, Boss?” Bull asked, helping him up.

Theo looked down at his soaked and muddy clothing. “I will be. I think I really just want some dry clothes, a bath, and a hot meal. Not necessarily in that order,” he said, and they headed back to Fort Bronach.

Varric and Hawke met them there a few hours later—past the noon deadline Theo had set, but not by much. With them was a man who had to be Stroud. He looked gaunt and hungrily accepted the stew he was offered. He was dressed in a faded Grey Warden uniform, but the most striking feature about him was his long mustache. Theo watched it in fascination when he spoke with his thick Orlesian accent about all he’d seen happen to the Warden Order of late.

“Mine’s better,” Dorian murmured in passing, and Theo had to stifle a laugh as Stroud spoke of serious matters.

“When Hawke first slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was content to put it to rest,” he said. “But it wasn’t long after that the Wardens began to hear their calling.”

“I’ve been to Weisshaupt once before,” Dorian said, which surprised Theo; he would not have pegged Dorian as a prospective Grey Warden. Then again, the man was full of surprises, and he loved learning all of them. “It was so dull and serious, one could hardly piss straight.”

“Stop being a bad influence,” Theo muttered, nudging him in the side.

“The Wardens are scared and aren’t thinking clearly,” Hawke said, before Stroud could fire back any retort to Dorian. “And now these Venatori are taking advantage of it.”

“Of course they are,” Dorian said. “A force of desperate, frightened Grey Wardens with nothing to lose? That’s power. The Venatori deal in power at any cost. Do you know where they were headed next?”

Stroud sopped up the last of his stew with a hunk of bread. “I believe they may have been headed for the Western Approach. It is a Maker-forsaken place,” he said, shaking his head. “Some of the correspondence suggested they were following the Venatori there.”

“The Western Approach is the ass-end of Thedas,” Varric said, glancing up from cleaning Bianca. “If they want to make this harder for us, they’re succeeding.”

Theo nodded. “I’ll send the information on to Leliana and Cullen via raven, and they’ll probably want to meet when we get back to Skyhold. I suppose we hear what they have to say, and then get ready to head to the Western Approach.” He grinned. “I always did want to see the world.”


	12. Undue Influence

_Chapter 12: Undue Influence_

The rains began to let up as they left Crestwood; Harding promised to send a raven to Skyhold when they found the mayor, who, as it turned out, had left a letter confessing to flooding and destroying Old Crestwood during the Blight. The flood had formed the lake and dozens of people had drowned because of his actions. “Looks like you’ll have another criminal to judge, Inquisitor,” Harding said. She was usually cheerful, but this made her sound grim. “Safe journey to you all,” she added, though she looked right at Krem when she said it.

Stroud joined them as they rode back to Skyhold, and again Theo found himself looking for any time he could to be alone with Dorian. He tried to be formal and distant when others were around, but it was frustrating when all he wanted was to fling himself at Dorian, or even just relax with their arms around each other before the fire. Dorian, however, caught and held Theo’s eye, and smiled surreptitiously whenever he could. It was something.

But then there were the times the watch overlapped and they had a few stolen moments. They were never long enough, but the feel of Dorian’s lips on his, and Dorian’s body in his arms made it worth it. Discretion. Theo only had to hold out long enough to build up his reputation and they could be as open as they wanted.

He hoped.

Finally they began the trek up the mountain road that led to Skyhold; Theo felt his chest constrict with a nervous sort of excitement. He was coming _home_ after a mission. His horse sensed his jitters and pranced up the road a few paces and shook its head, annoyed, when Theo tried to rein it in. He didn’t feel like getting a lecture from Master Dennett about pushing the horses too hard.

He rode at the head of the line and nodded for Dorian to come join him. When Dorian subtly shook his head Theo had to resist the urge to hang back and ride with him. He was the Inquisitor, returning from his first mission. He had to do what was good for the people right now. So he kept his head up and shoulders back, and trotted across the bridge and through the open portcullis into the courtyard.

Horns signaled their arrival and suddenly the courtyard was a flurry of activity. He didn’t remember this many people being here when he’d left, and he wondered just what sorts of things were being said about him and the Inquisition to bring in so many people. But it didn’t matter. _I’m home,_ he thought, trying out the word in his mind as he looked around with a huge smile on his face.

“Welcome home, Your Worship,” a stable hand said, holding the reins so Theo could dismount. He looked around. The stables had been repaired, and the outer walls were looking sturdier. A makeshift tent hospital had been set up nearby and healers were tending to the injured who’d returned from scouting missions.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, walking up to meet Theo. She clasped his hand, but then surprised him with a rough one-armed hug. “It is good to see you well. The ravens have been arriving, and we were eagerly awaiting your return.”

“It’s good to see you as well, Cassandra,” Theo said, and it truly was. The Seeker was still shrewd and observant, but seemed far more relaxed now that they’d settled in. “I’m sure Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen want to see me,” he said, rolling his eyes, but he smiled. “No rest for the weary.”

“There is much to discuss. I’ve also sent word out to the Seekers, but the order has been silent and it is most distressing.” She started for the stone stairs to the entry, but Theo was waiting on Dorian.

“Go on without me,” Dorian said to Theo. “I feel the need to get reacquainted with the bath and my bed,” he said with a smile. Theo wanted to at least hug him, but all eyes were on him and Cassandra was not used to being kept waiting.

Theo held eye contact just a moment longer and offered a slight smile before following Cassandra. Mother Giselle was coming down the stairs as they ascended and she smiled in greeting until her eyes swept past Theo and down to the courtyard to see Dorian handing off his horse. “Problem, Mother Giselle?” Theo asked, unable to keep the chill from his voice. “I’d think you’d thank the Maker that the Herald returned with his friends intact.”

“Yes. I am pleased that you have returned safely,” Mother Giselle said, recovering quickly. “May the Maker watch over you,” she said, and continued on her way.

Cassandra looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. Theo shook his head. “She doesn’t like that Dorian’s from Tevinter,” he said after a moment of thought. He let her lead the way to the war room. Progress was being made on the inside as well: there were no more piles of rubble littering the great hall, and new Orlesian silk carpets ran the length of the hall. It was a nice touch. Josephine’s office was stocked with books on diplomacy, and a shelf was dedicated to inkpots and quills alone. Her little fireplace had a fire going with two stuffed chairs set up before it. All in all it was a cozy place for her to meet with diplomats and dignitaries.

“Inquisitor, welcome back,” Josephine said as he entered the war room with Cassandra by his side. “I think you’ll find much has been accomplished in your absence.”

“I’m already starting to see that,” he said. “It’s amazing what’s happened here.”

“We’re sending scouts out to the Western Approach, but also hearing of Venatori activity in the Exalted Plains,” Leliana said. “We will wish to establish a presence there soon.”

“I’ve been delving into the red templars a bit as well,” Cullen said. His voice sounded harsher than usual and he needed a shave. He didn’t look well, but Theo assumed it was the long days plotting troop movements and training recruits for what would possibly be the largest army in all of Thedas. Theo shivered involuntarily at the thought.

“And we are learning more about the civil war in Orlais,” Josephine told him. “It appears the two major players are not opposed to having peace talks, but they _do_ appear to be opposed to ceasing the fighting,” she said grimly. “I am continuing talks with some of the lesser nobles to increase our influence in the Empire. If we are to save the Empress we must be able to get near her first.”

“All true,” Theo said. “When did the scouts head west?”

“Yesterday,” Leliana said. “I sent the fastest we currently have available, along with several ravens. Though it is tempting to rush after them, I feel I must advise caution in the pursuit. An intelligent enemy is dangerous,” she said.

“And we will also need to turn attentions to the missing Seekers,” Cassandra said softly. “If we could have the order on our side it would be a great benefit, though I do not know if Lord Seeker Lucius will ever see reason.”

“We’ll find them, Cassandra,” Cullen said gently. “I called for a small contingent of forces to do some recon east of the Hinterlands.”

Theo listened with interest as the conversation went on around him. Being surrounded by such competent people, the best in their fields, could easily have been intimidating; at first he had been scared of them. But the more they talked easily amongst themselves, pausing to glance up and ask what he thought every so often, the more grateful he was to have them. Maker knew he’d be completely lost, and probably dead, without them.

Josephine sent a page to have dinner brought in for them as they continued talking strategy. Theo did his best to be interested and to give his opinions, but after awhile he just listened and nodded occasionally. Talk turned to the Skyhold renovations; Cullen excused himself, which Theo thought wise. He looked far too pale and drawn and could use some rest. Cassandra accompanied him out; she touched his arm, but he jerked it away.

“I suppose that puts an end to our talks for the evening,” Leliana said, standing and adjusting her hood over her red hair. “I will be in the rookery if you need me,” she said.

“You should rest, Leliana,” Josephine said. “Besides, if you spend too much time with those ravens, you’ll start to sound like one,” she teased. “Which reminds me, Solas complained that he continues to find bird droppings in his study.” But she was smiling and trying not to laugh, and even Leliana cracked a smile before taking her leave.

“You too, Inquisitor,” Josephine admonished, waving her quill at Theo. “There is much to do and you need to be in good form.”

“I do believe you need to take your own advice, Lady Montilyet,” Theo said, grabbing the end of her quill and pulling it out of her hand. She gasped and pouted, and he laughed. As a hunter he’d had to hone quick reflexes. “I was crashing in whatever hallway or room I could find before I went to Crestwood,” he said. “Should I just find another floor?”

Josephine’s face lit up even more, if that was possible. “Oh, that was one of the first things we fixed after you left.” She led him back to the great hall and pointed out the last door on the left. “Your private quarters, Inquisitor.”

Theo suddenly felt trepidation, which was silly; Skyhold was his home, so why shouldn’t he have a room? But _this_ room… The private stairwell opened up into a room with high ceilings that almost dwarfed everything else in the room. He had private balconies with a view of the mountains, which were looking blue in the gathering dark. He had a huge desk, a set of bookshelves, a fireplace with a roaring fire already built in it, an overstuffed Orlesian sofa, and a massive bed.

He didn’t care that he was nearly twenty-four years old, or that Josephine, his diplomacy advisor, was watching. He ran for the bed and did a dive onto the piles of blankets and pillows, and the feather bed sank under him. “Maker’s balls this is the most amazing bed I’ve ever been in,” he said, rolling over and staring up at the ceiling, so high that the rafters were lost in shadow. He picked his head up and looked at Josephine. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” he said with a grin.

She shook her head, but she was smiling too. “I’ll take this as my cue to depart. Goodnight, Inquisitor.”

* * *

Theo had never slept so well in his life, including before the Inquisition. He woke embarrassingly late in the morning, but he felt refreshed for the first time in a long while, and even more so after a servant drew him a hot bath. It occurred to him as he dressed in new, comfortable clothing that this was the first morning in nearly two months that he could take his time and do whatever he wanted.

He wanted to find Dorian.

Theo headed out into the great hall, unprepared for gasps and the rustling of dresses and clanking of armor as people bowed at his appearance. Theo blushed and waved, but it was with his left hand and the green light shone out over the people. _Shit,_ he thought, even as he kept smiling the way Josephine had taught him. He clenched his hand and nodded and greeted people as he passed, thanking them for their presence and support…

…and all he wanted was to go to the library.

“I’m on a mission now, please see my advisors,” he said apologetically to a woman trying to convince him to invest in her store. “Lady Montilyet will assist you,” he added and knew that he would get it badly from Josephine later on.

It was hard not to laugh when he passed through Solas’s atrium study and he remembered that the ravens tended to leave droppings. He did glance upward nervously when a raven cawed overhead, but made it through unscathed.

Loud voices made him pause in the stairwell. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but it was a habit he’d picked up as a child in Ostwick. If he blended in, moved quietly as the shadows, and if no one knew he was there, they wouldn’t hesitate with what they had to say. It was how he’d learned he was destined for the Chantry; it was how he learned that Gavriel was so sick…. And many other things he probably should not have learned.

Theo crept up another step and hugged the wall. “Just what do you think you are doing?” It was Mother Giselle. Theo held his breath.

“Apparently I’m being pecked to death by a mother hen,” Dorian snapped. Theo could picture him standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest and the slightest curving sneer touching his lips.

“Do _not_ play the fool with me young man,” Mother Giselle snapped. Theo had never heard her speak harshly to anyone before; even when he’d first met her, tending the wounded in the Hinterlands after days of little sleep and harsh conditions, she’d been serene and caring.

“Oh, if I wanted to play the fool I assure you I’d try much harder than this,” Dorian fired back.

She made a disgusted noise. “Your glib tongue does you no credit,” she said.

Dorian paused briefly, and in that split second Theo almost felt bad for Mother Giselle. “You’d be surprised at the credit my tongue does get me,” Dorian nearly purred, and Theo had to stifle a laugh, even as his heart flipped in his chest, because he’d definitely given some credit to that tongue.

Theo made his way to the top of the stairs. “Good morning,” he said. “Dorian. Mother Giselle,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Something going on? I heard your voices as I was heading upstairs.”

Mother Giselle opened her mouth to speak, but Dorian was quicker. “It appears your Revered Mother is concerned about my… what was it? _Undue influence_ over you,” Dorian said, his voice dripping with acid. “Again, with the Tevinter thing. You’d think it would get old, but it never does.”

“Your Worship, you must know how this looks! Corypheus is of Tevinter, as is this young man. His presence at the side of the Herald of Andraste has been cause for rumor.”

Theo felt himself go colder than he’d been on that mountainside. “I can think for myself, thank you. And rumors?” he asked, keeping himself as calm as possible, but he remembered what Dorian had said about people talking. He thought he wouldn’t have cared, but now that they were…He glanced at Dorian, who was tense as a drawn bowstring and could snap any moment. And was that worry Theo saw in his gray eyes? Theo took a deep breath. “I’m the Herald of Andraste so long as I do and say exactly what you think I should,” he told her. “Isn’t that true?” She was silent. “Yes, Corypheus is of Tevinter, as are the Venatori. Dorian came to us of his own free will, offering to help put an end to both.”

Mother Giselle had the grace to look abashed, and bowed her head. “I only meant to ask his intentions.”

“Only when your plan to get him to go back to Tevinter failed,” Theo said, and she seemed to shrink into herself. “I met his father. Dorian told me what he tried to do to him. Your bias against Tevinter placed us both in a dangerous and hurtful situation.”

Mother Giselle straightened up. She clenched her jaw, but when she saw the determined gleam in Theo’s eyes and the defiant expression on his face, she sighed. “You are the Herald of Andraste. If you feel his intentions are without harm, then I ask forgiveness of you both.” She waited a moment, but when Theo said nothing she sighed and headed down the stairs.

Theo leaned over the railing to watch her shadow as she exited the atrium, headed for the gardens. She was probably going to find a chapel to pray in.

“I am capable of fighting my own battles, you know,” Dorian said, gray eyes narrowed, but he leaned against the bookshelves and ran his hand through his wavy dark hair.

“She made me her pawn. I didn’t like it,” Theo said simply. He rested his hand on Dorian’s arm. Dorian stiffened instinctively, but relaxed. Theo wondered when, or if it would ever stop, if the mage could just be comfortable around him. Then again, they were in the middle of the library, telling off a Revered Mother: hardly the epitome of discretion. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” Theo asked.

“Somewhere where a hundred onlookers won’t accuse me of using my nefarious Tevinter powers to steal your soul?” Dorian asked with a grin.

“Oh, that happened a long time ago,” Theo said and gave him a quick peck on the cheek when he was sure no one was looking. Discretion. Minimizing rumors. Maker, all he wanted was to spend time with someone who finally saw him for who he really was: not a religious symbol, not a potential spare, not a nobody destined for the Chantry; and moreover, somebody who appreciated him and cared for him in return. Was that so much to ask?

They ended up in Dorian’s room, though only after making sure no one was watching. Theo hated the sneaking about, but after the confrontation in the library he had to admit Dorian’s suggestion of discretion was a good one. If Mother Giselle was willing to chastise Dorian when she thought they were only friends, what would she do if she found out it was quickly becoming more?

Dorian wove privacy webs and silencing spells again, the way he did the first night Theo had talked to him in Redcliffe, and just like that night Theo watched him with fascination. When Dorian was satisfied that the room was safe, he flopped on his bed with a sigh. He gestured for Theo to join him.

Theo’s stomach clenched, but he remembered this was one thing he’d been most longing for in the days since they’d first kissed. He lay down next to Dorian, who wrapped one arm around him. Theo closed his eyes and smelled that mix of vanilla and cinnamon, so different from what he would have thought; he felt Dorian’s warmth seeping into his cheek. He’d slept well the night before, but he could fall asleep all over again. “Is my influence over you undue?” Dorian asked, and he seemed genuinely concerned.

“Only in a good way,” Theo said, adjusting himself to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and draping an arm over the mage’s torso. Dorian took his hand and played with his fingers, which tickled. Theo hoped no one was going to look for him, because today he did not want to be found.


	13. Distance

_Chapter 13: Distance_

 “Close the door,” Cullen said, but his tone was tired and defeated, so Theo did as he was asked.

 “Commander, are you well?” Theo asked, pulling up a chair. He’d wondered about Cullen since the night Cassandra had led him out of the war room. The intervening days had been busy and Theo had sneaked away with Dorian whenever he could, so he’d not seen much of Cullen. When a page found him at target practice and said Cullen needed to see him, Theo assumed the worst.

He eyed the wooden box on Cullen’s desk. The Commander stared at it periodically, and Theo wondered what was in it but was afraid to ask. At last Cullen slammed the cover and took a deep breath. “I called you here for two reasons. The first is I’ve found some more information on the red templars. They’re led by a man named Samson that I knew in Kirkwall. He used to be a templar,” Cullen explained. “I’ll do more digging, but it’s possible that if we can take out Samson, without a leader the red templars will either collapse upon themselves, or join us.”

“I don’t know if the latter is a great option,” Theo said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nor do I,” Cullen conceded. “Varric has a friend who was researching red lyrium, so they headed out to Valammar over in Ferelden to check it out.”

“That’s surprising,” Theo said. They’d hardly been back at Skyhold a week. “But I suppose it’s in our best interests to know as much as possible.” Cullen nodded, but Theo got the sense that he wasn’t quite done. “Something else?” he asked, but he smiled. Part of him worried that Cullen was going to give him another lecture about being with Dorian; it seemed to be the popular thing to do these days.

Cullen merely cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the wooden box. “As you know, I used to be a templar.” Theo nodded. “Templars have a very specific set of skills, but in order to hone those skills and use them, we have to take lyrium.” Cullen cracked his knuckles and shook his hands out. “The need for it increases over time, and it comes to a point that without it we could die. And I… have stopped taking it.”

Theo’s witty retort died on his tongue and he sat there in front of Cullen with his mouth hanging open. Cullen did not snap, did not sigh; he just stared at the box on the desk, which Theo realized must have been his lyrium tools. “The Inquisition has supply lines because of the mages,” he began, but Cullen shook his head.

“No. It’s not an issue of supply for me,” he said. His face broke into an ironic smile. “Supply is what made Samson who he is. He couldn’t get his fixes often enough, so he went to outside suppliers. When he was thrown out of the order he still needed lyrium, and he always needed more. I won’t become that,” he said, clutching the box. Theo was afraid he would throw it.

Instead Cullen put it in a drawer and paced, trying to take deep breaths. “I stopped taking it months ago. I actually haven’t touched it since before the Inquisition. I refuse to be bound to that life. If the withdrawal becomes too much for me…” Here he paused and clenched his hands, which Theo realized were shaking. “I have asked Cassandra to keep an eye on me. I trust her, not just in her opinion of me, but in her ability to lead the armies in my stead.”

“Wait,” Theo said. “I can’t just lose you.” His head was a jumble of thoughts as he tried to picture the Inquisition’s armies without Cullen at the helm. It was not something he could imagine, and the thought frightened him; not because he didn’t trust Cassandra, but because as long as he’d been part of all of this, Cullen and his experience and wisdom had been constant.

Cullen smiled a bit sadly and leaned against his desk. “The army takes priority. This was not a choice I undertook lightly—either to go off lyrium or to allow Cassandra to know. But the Inquisition is about more than my pride. I’ve seen too many things happen because of pride: Kinloch Hold, Kirkwall… I will not let that happen to the Inquisition.” The way he punctuated his statement with a nod told Theo that the decision was final and not up for debate.

“Then I suppose I should say thank you,” Theo finally said. Cullen quirked his head to the side. “For being honest. I appreciate you not hiding things from me.”

Cullen seemed a bit surprised, but still grateful. “You deserve to know these things if the Inquisition is to be successful.”

“Thank you, Cullen. I will trust Cassandra’s judgment, but please don’t keep me in the dark?” Theo asked as he got up to leave. Cullen waved farewell and Theo headed out onto the battlements outside Cullen’s tower office.

“He hurts and wants to heal but it has to hurt more before that can happen.”

The voice was soft and certain and Theo spun around to see Cole, the strange young man who’d come to his aid at Haven. He’d almost forgotten that he was still with them. And Theo was positive no one had been outside when he’d left Cullen’s office. “How do you know?” Theo asked. As far as he knew, Cullen had only shared this information with Cassandra and himself.

Cole gave a ghost of a smile. “Because I help, but I can’t help unless there’s hurt.” He fixed his pale eyes on Theo. “Smooth wood, tight string, deadly work of art in my hand and he won’t even look at me, my voice cuts through the air and does not touch him. He’s busy doing something but that something is ignoring me.”

An unbidden lump formed in Theo’s throat. “How do you know that?” he asked around the ball of glass that had settled where his voice should be.

“Because it hurts you,” Cole said gently. “He wanders, watches, worries, waits, I sit in a corner listening and no one sees me. Maybe I’ll be needed and if I am he’ll finally see me.”

“Stop,” Theo said in a low voice. He clenched his left hand, the hand with the green mark that made him something. “I know it hurts me. It doesn’t mean I want to feel it all over again. That was years ago.” The first time Gavriel had been sick. When for one terrible moment Theo had wished his brother would die.

Cole reached out a hand. “I can heal it. Make you forget.”

Theo stepped backward. The idea of forgetting all of these painful memories was so tempting, and yet at the same time it was strange because he did not want to lose that. It had become who he was, and part of what he fought for. “Is that how you help?” he asked quietly. “What are you, even?”

Cole must have had excellent reflexes, because Theo had only blinked and then the boy was up walking the chest-high wall of the battlement.   Theo craned his neck to get a good look under the hat. Cole was not smiling. “Once there was Cole and he was hurt and cold and they forgot him. Now there is Cole and he helps the hurt and cold by making them forget.”

It hardly answered Theo’s question, but he supposed he had to put aside expectations of clear answers from the odd boy. “Sometimes remembering helps them heal,” Theo finally said. “For some people the hurt is who they are, but for others, the pain pushes them.”

“I only want to help.” Cole’s voice was small and broken, as if he might cry.

“I know,” Theo said. “You saved many lives back at Haven, and I think you’ll do good work here.”

He started for the stairs, but Cole called after him, “If he wanted to see you, would you let him in?” Theo kept going. He pretended Cole was talking about Dorian, because that was a far more pleasant thought than wondering how he would react if his father were to reach out to him.

          

* * *

 

Two nights later they celebrated a major victory: the completion of the tavern.

Every time the door opened music, shouts, and laughter poured out. It was likely to be packed inside, and the thought of so many bodies pressing against him made Dorian shudder. There was only one body he wanted pressed against his, and it was not going to happen in that tavern. He sighed and paced about the courtyard, giving a nod of greeting to anyone who passed him. His stomach tensed whenever he thought of going in there. Certainly he and Theo had been together in public several times, but they always maintained a respectful distance. It was necessary, Dorian told Theo afterward, every time, and he kissed him and they laughed in the semi-dark of Dorian’s room and left the matter at that.

It was driving Dorian to the edge of his sanity.

“You also don’t fancy the company of others?” Solas asked, appearing beside him, watching the tavern door open once again into the night.

“I do, just not quite in this volume,” Dorian told him. “What brings you here, if you’re not interested in watching drunken soldiers and mercenaries?”

Solas smiled. “I’d ask you the same.”

Dorian shrugged. “I do believe I asked you first,” he said in a light, joking tone that clearly said he was not going to tell Solas anything.

Solas was quiet for a moment. “We exist in dark times, Dorian,” he said. “We have a heavy burden to bear, but in order to bear it we must continue to hope. To hope, we must have morale. I suppose the tavern provides that for these people, and I wished to see some levity in the midst of everything.”

“That’s fair,” Dorian said. The door opened once again and he thought about Theo inside, probably smiling and laughing, so he bid farewell to Solas and steeled his resolve.

Inside it was warm and bright and loud, but the kind of loud that came from people enjoying themselves and each others’ company, rather than just being obnoxious and drunk. Heads swiveled when he entered and made his way through the crowd. _Yes, yes, get a good look at the Tevinter deigning to join you,_ he thought, though he tried to smile. Then again, he owned a mirror; he knew he was pleasant to look upon. He tried to think that was the reason they stared. It _did_ make him feel better.

“Dorian!” Theo called from across the room. He waved from a corner table where he was sitting with the Iron Bull, Krem, and some of the other Chargers. Dorian took a deep breath, smiled, and headed over. “I’m glad you made it,” Theo said, smiling. “Your wine’s been getting lonely.”

It was amazing that there was an empty chair, but he realized that Theo had been saving it; there was already a glass of red wine on the table, too. Dorian tried to avoid the look Bull was giving him, but realized that the rest of the Chargers were exchanging money. “Something I’ve missed?” he asked, taking a sip. Not the best he’d ever had. But the thought was very kind.

“My guys were taking bets on whether or not you’d show up,” Bull said with a crooked grin. He’d obviously started drinking early. “Dalish even doubled the bet when the boss ordered you a drink.” He laughed.

Dorian just sipped again and tried to look disgusted, but Theo’s hand was on his leg under the table and it was quite distracting. “Josephine tried, but we don’t have enough of a presence yet in Tevinter get to get wine,” Theo said with a sigh.

At that point Dalish and Krem came back with another round of drinks for the table, including another glass of red wine for Dorian, who wasn’t even half finished his first. Theo already seemed a bit tipsy; his cheeks were splotched red and his eyes were bright. His hand absently stroked Dorian’s thigh. Maker’s testicles, but it felt good to be touched like that—just casually and naturally. Even with all these people around.

Dorian downed the first glass and started in on the second.

“That’s right, mage boy, show my guys how they do it in Tevinter!” Bull roared.

“Fuck me, that’s not how we do things in Tevinter,” Krem snapped. He stood and chugged his full mug of ale, hardly spilling any down the front of his jerkin. He slammed the mug down on the table. “ _That’s_ how we do it,” he said, breathing heavily, but grinning.

“Are you going to sit back and take that?” Bull asked Dorian.

Dorian took a large gulp of wine. He found it tasted better if he drank it quickly. “Yes, in fact I am,” he said, already feeling pleasant and warmed by the wine. Krem’s drunken grin spread and he yelled for _another_ round of ales.

Everyone finished off what drinks they had, even if they’d just gotten one. Theo’s fingers dug into Dorian’s leg lightly, and he was biting his bottom lip in excitement. Dorian rested his hand atop Theo’s. It was warm, and Theo turned his own hand over, palm up, and laced his fingers with Dorian’s.

Dorian finished off his wine and also waved for ale. _Venhedis._ He was going to enjoy himself tonight.

The drinks arrived, they all grabbed their mugs, and at once began to chug. Bull was the first one to slam his mug on the table, so hard that the handle broke off. Krem laughed at that, and swore loudly as ale came out his nose. Of the Chargers, only Grim and Rocky were able to finish without spilling (much) of their drinks. Dorian tried to chug, but wound up having to sip and hating every moment of it; surprisingly, Theo finished off his draught. He slammed his mug down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before sitting back proudly, and all the Chargers cheered.

It was not Dorian’s usual form of entertainment, but seeing Theo so relaxed and confident made him stay. And then he realized Theo had held his hand the entire time. Dorian was not accustomed to this simple affection, and didn’t know if it was the action or the wine that left him feeling warm but confused.

The Chargers got up one at a time and stumbled away. Bull was the last to leave and he gave Theo a once-over. “Lemme know if you need me to carry your ass back to your room, Boss,” he said with a loud laugh before he too left. Even though they had a prime table and the tavern was bustling, no asked to take seats.

“You convinced the Chargers to save the table for you,” Dorian murmured.

“Of course I did,” Theo said. “Everyone’s intimidated by them,” he added with a grin. “Do you want more wine?”

“You ask the silliest questions,” Dorian said with a smile, meeting Theo’s gaze. “Though the Bull may end up carrying _me_ back to my rooms tonight if I’m not careful.”

Theo shook his head. “Hey, I look scrawny, but I draw a pretty heavy bow. If you need carrying…” He stopped abruptly and looked away. He reached for his mug and went to take a gulp, only to realize it was empty. He tried to pull his hand away, as if aware of what he was doing for the first time. “Shit. I’m sorry, Dor, after all we’ve talked about discretion and…”

“Shh,” Dorian said. “Ideally everyone will be too drunk to remember they ever saw this at all.” How he hated walking this fine line.

Theo’s brow furrowed. “I know I’m not like most you’re probably used to, but I…”

Dorian clasped Theo’s hand. “You’re _not_ like most, but in all of the best ways possible. I’m only concerned what this could do to you.”

Theo sighed and pulled his hand away from Dorian’s. “If people hate me because of who I choose to be with then they can find someone else to defeat Corypheus,” he said. He toyed with his empty mug and then reached for Dorian’s unfinished drink.

“You’re the Herald of Andraste,” Dorian said. Even to him it sounded like a hollow reason to maintain such distance, especially when they both so clearly wanted to close the gap.

“I don’t know why that means so much to you,” Theo said.

“Because you could get hurt, and I won’t have you hurt because of me,” Dorian said. _Fasta vass_ , why wouldn’t Theo see that? It was hurting Dorian just as much; but as Mother Giselle had proven, it seemed people were just looking to find fault in all things Tevinter. Dorian included.

Theo stared at him and for one moment Dorian thought Theo might kiss him right there in full view of everybody; his heart quickened. Theo just shook his head before finishing off the last of Dorian’s ale and pushing away from the table. “Theo, please,” Dorian said with a sigh, realizing that, once again, in trying to help Theo he’d probably hurt his feelings. Part of him was irritated, but he had to remember that Theo was younger, likely less experienced, and under enormous pressure that Dorian was probably adding to.

He got up as well and pushed through the sea of people to the doorway. Theo was already halfway across the courtyard; dammit, he was fast. “Theo!” Dorian called, but Theo didn’t turn around. So Dorian did the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do: he ran after the man he cared for. “Theo, please, I’m sorry,” Dorian said, grabbing his arm.

Theo turned. In the dark it was hard to see his expression, but Dorian didn’t care. He cupped Theo’s face in his hands and kissed him. Theo inhaled sharply but Dorian held his lips against Theo’s and caressed his cheekbones with his thumbs. Theo relaxed and kissed back, and after a moment his arms wrapped around Dorian.

Then he pulled back and caught his breath. “You don’t get to keep doing this,” Theo said quietly, but he held Dorian close to him. “You don’t get to keep me at arms’ length until nobody’s watching. You don’t get to keep telling me it’s for my own good, and then kiss me and hope I forget,” Theo said. Dorian tried to say something, but Theo trailed a finger over his lower lip. Dorian shuddered at the touch. “I know you mean well. But I’m an adult, and I’m the Inquisitor. Let me make my choices and deal with the consequences if there are to be any.”

It was a frightening thought, what Theo was suggesting. Vulnerability was a weakness in Tevinter, and Dorian had learned early on never to show weakness of any sort. To care about another person was to be vulnerable; but how could caring so deeply for someone who obviously cared for you the same way, be a weakness?

“This is a lot for me to get used to,” Dorian finally admitted, and even that was hard to say. He was admitting his vulnerability to the one person who could hurt him the most.

“Me too,” Theo said with a slight chuckle. He kissed Dorian’s forehead lightly. “I’m not suggesting we snog on the Skyhold Throne for all to see,” he said.

“Pity,” Dorian managed. He’d never quite been this undone in his life, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Theo laughed softly. “I’m all for keeping it classy. Just not so… reserved. I want to be able to talk with you and laugh with you without worrying if anyone’s watching.”

“That sounds fair,” Dorian managed. “I’m sure it is rather difficult for you to keep your hands off of me, after all,” he added.

“You have no idea,” Theo said. He held Dorian closer. “You’re the first person to really see _me_. I’ve never had that before, which I guess is why I’m so eager to be with you,” he said.

Dorian closed his eyes. He wouldn’t have thought he’d enjoy such simple pleasures as much as he currently was. And if he was able to see Theo for who he was, Dorian realized that Theo appreciated _him_ for simply being Dorian. All his life Dorian’s worth had been based on his bloodline, his talent, and his potential, and all so long as he did what a good Altus was supposed to do. When his father disowned him he began to base his own worth in his pride and conviction. But to Theo, he was unconditionally Dorian.

Dorian barely noticed when people passed them, either coming from or heading to the tavern. People were seriously going to talk. But it was a small price to pay for holding and kissing the one person who truly saw and cared for _him_. Not a failed Altus, not an outsider, but just Dorian.


	14. Favors

_Chapter 14: Favors_

 

“Dorian. Have you come to complain about the ravens?” Leliana asked, glancing up, but smiling. “Solas has said their droppings end up in his tea from time to time.”

Dorian laughed at the thought of what Solas’s face must have looked like during that conversation. “No, I haven’t, Sister. If anything I brought some treats for them, if I may,” he said, and Leliana’s smile spread and she nodded. He absently fed bits of meat scraps to the ravens and gathered his courage. It was never easy to admit he needed something, and even more difficult to admit he needed help with it. “I know you’re a busy woman,” he began.

“You need something,” she said. “And I have ways of getting things.”

“Yes. What I really need is simply for you to track down a person. A merchant to whom I sold something of great value a few years back,” he said. He was grateful to have the ravens to fixate on, so he could avoid Leliana’s scrutiny without appearing rude. It was hideously embarrassing to have to ask for anyone’s help with this, but he had exhausted his own personal leads. He would not ask Theo either, even though the Inquisitor would probably leap to the task. He would not be in Theo’s debt, that much he promised himself.

Leliana joined him and a raven hopped onto her outstretched arm. She lightly scratched its neck feathers and it looked at her with adoring beady eyes. She smiled. “Just give me a name and what you seek, and it shall be done,” she said.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you certain? I know how much there is to do…”

“I will send a message to your camp in the Western Approach once I find anything,” she promised. “Busy or not, this is important to you.”

“How do you know that?” Dorian asked. “I may just be behaving like the spoiled Tevinter I am. Though no one has peeled a grape for me in weeks,” he added with a grin.

“You sought out help,” Leliana said. “You are not the sort to seek out help, and you even would deny help when it is freely offered. This must be important.”

“You must secretly be Ben-Hassrath,” he teased. “You read people too well.”

“In another life I was trained as a Bard. That training has been invaluable in my service as the Left Hand of the Divine, and now in the Inquisition.”

“So I see,” Dorian said. He handed Leliana a rolled up piece of parchment with a name on it. She looked it over before nodding and putting it in her pocket.

“You may also wish to know that my scouts report Venatori in the Exalted Plains,” she added. “Do with this what you will.”

“Thank you, Sister Leliana,” he said, and took his leave.

“Dorian,” she called, and he turned. “I’ve heard people talking about you and Theodane.”

He winced. Here it came: the lectures, the disapproval, the disgust with everything he represented. “Yes. Well…” he said, at a loss for words. What did one say to someone who already knew everything?

But a light, teasing smile touched Leliana’s face. “You seem to make him happy,” she said, “and that’s important. But make him unhappy…”

Dorian grinned in relief; it was good to hear that he made Theo happy enough that others noticed. “I’m sure if I were to accidentally do such a thing you’d have strong words to say to me.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “I was a Bard, Dorian. I know how to kill quickly and quietly and make their bodies disappear.”

The way she kept smiling, and the casual way in which she said it made it clear that Leliana’s word was good. “I’m sure you do. I appreciate you giving me warning first,” he said and left, feeling her gaze like daggers in his back.

  

* * *

 

Before now the only part of Orlais Theo had seen was Val Royeaux, and he’d thought that the entire country was a sparkling city that spanned all of southwestern Thedas. In reality it was a lot of rolling and rocky countryside that looked like it had seen better days. The Exalted Plains, for instance, seemed to have been named ironically, though Cassandra and Cullen assured him that once they’d been beautiful and worthy of the name. Now, even if they weren’t suffering from Fade rifts and undead on the ramparts, they would still be depressing.

They’d managed to clear out and claim the old Riverside Garrison. It hadn’t been easy. Bull had taken a deep wound to his thigh, and Cassandra had been knocked down and sprained her ankle. It was only after so much damage had been done that they realized there was a Fade rift underground.

“The dead dream of being alive. Living, laughing loud, lunging for life and they come up short,” Cole babbled as they headed down. “The Fade calls to the dead and the dead cry out in gratitude.”

The only thing Theo could assume he meant was that the Fade rift had somehow stirred the dead buried here long ago, much like the rift in Crestwood. He was tired and had taken a couple of hits that would definitely leave marks, but he had to close this rift. He blocked out the sounds of fighting and the pull of the demons that tumbled through the rift. When it was over he was exhausted. Whatever blood had been spilled in this place over the centuries had strengthened the forces that created the Fade rift.

“If we hold the Plains we may be able to curry some favor with the Dalish,” Cullen said that night as he cleaned his sword; he had laid low many demons that day. He sat before the fire and took a long pull at a brandy bottle from the supply carriages. He handed it to Theo, who took a few gulps. It warmed him and dulled his pain, two things for which he was grateful. “If we can gain a foothold in Orlais on our way to the Approach, it may increase our chances of success.”

Theo nodded. “Thank you, Cullen. I’m glad to have you along.”

“I was feeling a bit cooped up at Skyhold anyway,” Cullen said with a tired smile. “We don’t know what we’ll find when we arrive; I think it’s prudent to bring the army force along with us. If nothing else, it will show Orlais we are not a force to trifle with.”

Cullen’s confidence, even after such a tough day, made Theo feel a little better. He was sure that failures were bound to happen; it was just the law of averages. But he had yet to suffer a major defeat, and while that felt good, it was also scary. He thanked Cullen and headed toward the tents, but Cullen called for him. “Theo, I think you’ll be good for him,” he said with a smile.

Theo blushed. “I hope so,” he said, and turned away quickly. He knew news of their courtyard kiss would spread; it was a risk he’d been willing to take. But to actually hear commentary on it, especially from one of his closest advisors, was embarrassing. He hustled toward his tent.

Theo’s tent was more like a cabin with cloth walls, and it was slightly embarrassing to have such accommodations when he knew the soldiers were out in the field or sleeping on bedrolls under rocky overhangs, or anywhere that could provide some shelter. He nodded a greeting to a passing guard and entered his tent, then jumped and nearly took the whole thing down when he realized he wasn’t alone.

Dorian chuckled and set down the book he’d been reading. “I’m glad to see you too,” he teased. He’d changed from his usual leather, mail, and mage robes, into a simple pair of breeches and a loose shirt, and when he moved he grimaced. “I took a bit of a hit today,” he said in response to Theo’s worried look. “Nothing I won’t recover from. I didn’t need that kidney anyway,” he said, but was grinning. “What about you?”

Theo shrugged and began removing his armor. Dorian got up and began to help him, making quick work of the armor pieces. “I’ll live this time,” Theo said, moving so Dorian could better access a set of buckles. He winced. The breastplate hit the floor.

“You shouldn’t joke like that,” Dorian said quietly as his deft hands went to the hem of Theo’s sweat-soaked shirt. Theo held his breath and stiffened as Dorian lifted his shirt and examined the bruises that had started to form. “I’m just getting used to having you around; I don’t wish to think about you being gone.” He tugged the shirt gently and Theo pulled it off.

It was a new feeling, standing shirtless before Dorian. Theo was conscious of his paleness, his lack of bulk, and his new bruises. The last time he’d been partially clothed around a non-healer had been the brothel. He felt now as he did then: unsure, unprepared, unappealing. He glanced at the ground and fidgeted with his hands. He felt as if he should cover himself, or at least look for another shirt quickly.

Dorian did not avert his eyes; rather he kept looking, and he smiled. He rested his hands on Theo’s chest. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asked, and Theo shook his head, not sure he trusted his voice. “I wish I had a modicum of healing magic,” he said with a twinge of regret in his voice. “I hadn’t thought about it much before, but now that I see you injured, I don’t care for the thought of you in pain,” he said.

Theo smiled and pressed Dorian’s hand to his heart. “This is probably the least of the injuries I’m likely to receive in this mess. If you get sentimental now, I’m going to hate to see you when I’m missing an arm or my intestines are hanging out.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes. “Well. Aren’t we the macabre one this evening.”

“Maybe. It helps me cope with what happened,” Theo said. He tried to get a look at Dorian’s injury, but the mage had the unfair advantage of still being fully clothed. Theo pulled the pile of blankets and furs off the cot and arranged them on the floor before sinking down into them. Dorian joined him and gathered Theo into his arms. Theo closed his eyes. “There will be more like this. And people will die. My people,” he said, snuggling against Dorian’s chest. “It’s already happening. I can’t stop it. Knowing that they’re out there…”

“They believe in the Inquisition,” Dorian said, running his hand through Theo’s tangled hair. “Everyone who is here has made a choice. You have to honor that choice, no matter how it makes you feel.”

Theo sighed. Dorian was right, of course. “I’m trying,” he said with a yawn that made his ribs hurt. But he was so tired that even with the ache in his torso, he drifted off. It was pleasant being held by Dorian, especially when he was out of all that leather. It was soft and supple from years of wear and care, but this way Theo felt closer to Dorian’s skin—even though the mage still wore his shirt. Oh well, he’d tease him about it tomorrow night, or maybe the next…

The horns woke him at dawn the next morning. He was nested in a pile of blankets on the floor and he was alone. Theo sighed and winced. His ribs were bruised deep purple-green, and moving, while not impossible, was not fun. He would have to see a healer before they struck out today.

A squire had removed his armor for servicing in the night. A page had filled the ewer in his tent, probably while he was still asleep, and Theo splashed the chill water over his face and tried to clean up the rest of himself the best he could. He knew that seeing Orlais this way was important: he was viewing the parts of Thedas over which the Inquisition’s arm would stretch. But he missed Skyhold and its conveniences: particularly baths.

He was as clean as he was going to get, so he dressed in loose clothing and stiffly headed out to find a healer. When he arrived at the medical tents he found the Iron Bull still there. He couldn’t tell if Bull was paler than usual; the gray of his skin made it hard. He was sitting on a cot sharpening the edges of a huge great axe. He looked up when Theo approached.

“Hey boss,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “You feeling okay?”

“Just some bruising; maybe cracked ribs. I was more concerned about you,” he said. Bull had changed into a different set of pants, which he probably had to pack—the quartermasters probably did not stock clothing in Qunari sizes, Theo realized.

“I’ll live,” Bull said. “Had much worse than this. Though this is the first time I let a healer help me,” he said with a grimace. Theo raised an eyebrow, and Bull shook his head. “No fucking way were they going to use a spell on me. Stitches sewed it up, and they gave me some sort of potion. Elfroot or whatever. It’s helped take the edge off, though nothing’s a substitute for whiskey,” he said with a chuckle. He looked up at Theo. “Don’t worry about me, Boss.”

“Well… you’re one of my men. It’s my responsibility to worry,” Theo said.

Bull laughed again. “There you go getting all sentimental and shit. I can’t stop you from thinking that, but don’t get all sappy on the battlefield,” he advised.

It was easier for Theo to nod and agree than it was to actually believe that. Especially now: every time he fought it was a struggle to keep his eyes from drifting to Dorian, and to continue to protect himself _and_ take out the enemies when a new, fierce instinct shouted at him to cover Dorian and protect the mage at all costs—even though Dorian could clearly protect himself. “That’s good advice,” Theo finally told Bull. And it was. He had to take it to heart, had to remember that, much as he was growing to care for Dorian, there was more at stake. Dealings before feelings, Bull had said once. It was more important than ever to remember that.

The healers Fiona had sent along easily healed his cracked ribs, and only a trace of yellowish bruising remained on his torso. By then someone had brought his armor and bow and he finished gearing up before finding Cullen and Cassandra having breakfast by the river. He grabbed a bowl of porridge and joined them. “Will we continue to head west today?” he asked.

Cullen nodded. He didn’t look like he’d slept well, but his hands were steady and his voice clear. “I think if we leave a token force here, and spread the word that there’s an Inquisition outpost on the Plains, it will be enough for now. We’ve cleared undead from the ramparts and have some Orlesian soldiers grateful enough to join, so maybe more will come.”

“They will,” Cassandra said with certainty. “As the political situation with Orlais worsens, and as the Chantry continues tearing itself apart, the Inquisition is emerging as the stable force in Thedas.” She was grinning, pleased with herself. “We should gather the troops before we lose much more daylight,” she said, and Theo agreed. It also gave him an excuse to go find Dorian.

It took a bit of asking around, but he finally found Dorian’s tent. He peered in and Dorian was still sleeping, though how anyone could sleep through the noise of a busy camp at dawn was beyond him. Theo realized he had never seen Dorian quite like this. Dorian had very long lashes that fluttered against his cheeks as he slept, and his breathing was strong and even. His hair, normally so perfectly in place, was ruffled and stuck out. Theo had learned to be silent from a young age when his uncles taught him to hunt in the woods outside of Ostwick. He stepped carefully and sat down next to Dorian and rested his hand on the mage’s bare shoulder.

It felt… different somehow. It felt like a soft, light buzzing, as of dragonfly wings beneath his fingertips. Even in the chill of oncoming winter he was still warm to the touch, and his dark skin was smooth beneath Theo’s fingertips.

Dorian stirred and opened his eyes. “Am I still dreaming?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

“No, it’s really morning and you really have to get up,” Theo said with a smile. “I figured if I didn’t get to wake up next to you, at least you get to wake up next to me.” Dorian opened his mouth to speak, but Theo shook his head. “I know you have your reasons.” He leaned in and kissed Dorian lightly. “Cassandra wants to head out as quickly as possible. Our troops are already heading out, scouting the road ahead.”

Dorian sighed and turned over. He stretched languidly and then sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist. “Enjoying the view?” he asked Theo, who’d gone silent. Dorian had the unfair advantage of having seen Theo shirtless the night before, but also the advantage of being attractive and confident in his appearance.

Theo just nodded and blushed, then turned away so Dorian could get up and dress. As he did, Dorian told stories about growing up in Tevinter, about living in a land where magic was just part of everyday life and no one gave a thought to it. He never spoke of his home or family though. “What was Ostwick like?” Dorian asked. Theo heard him pulling straps and fastening buckles. He worked quickly.

“It’s a coastal holding. It’s nicer than Kirkwall, and we were able to avoid a lot of Fereldan refugees during the Blight. There were some forests, and I learned to hunt when I was young. The Chantry is big news there, and everyone in the Trevelyan family serves it in some way. If you’re not a mage, you become a sister, a brother, or a templar; or you rule over Ostwick and make sure everyone pays due respect to the Chantry.”

“You sound as if you’d just eaten something unpleasant,” Dorian said. “I’m glad you got away; it sounds simply dreadful.” He reappeared in Theo’s sights, fully dressed, but Theo couldn’t get the image of his bare chest out of his mind. “You know, the Pavus family was once related to the Trevelyans a very long time ago,” he said, looking into a small mirror and fixing his hair. “A _very_ long time ago, mind. At least three ages. Also, I cannot _believe_ you saw my hair like this.”

“That doesn’t make this awkward, does it?” Theo asked, moving behind Dorian and wrapping his arms around him. “And your hair looked fine.”

Dorian smiled and leaned back into him. “We’re talking three hundred years. As far as I’m concerned, our Trevelyans and your Trevelyans are completely different families by now.”

 

* * *

 

 

They headed out across the Plains under an overcast sky, though it did not seem that rain was likely. They paused for a break to water the horses. “Leliana told me there were Venatori sleeper cells in these parts,” Dorian murmured to Theo, who was busy stripping more twigs for more arrows. He did that whenever they paused, and Dorian normally loved watching his deft hands work.

Theo looked up, his dark hair falling into his face. He brushed it away. “Feel like sneaking off?” he asked with a grin.

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ no!” Dorian snapped. “You’ve fought them before; now that they know what you can do, they’ll stop at nothing to bring you before Corypheus. More than likely, they’ll kill you and just take your hand to him, since that’s all he really needs.”

Theo turned his left hand over and stared at his glowing palm. “I know this is useful, and it’s helping us do great things,” he said. “But it’s a fucking pain in the arse.”

Dorian did laugh at that. “Sometimes you’re the most sensitive and eloquent person I’ve ever met, and others your mouth is worse than a Rivaini pirate’s.” He leaned in and surprised Theo with a kiss. “I still like it though,” he said, and Theo’s cheeks turned read even as he smiled.

They set up another camp that night, not nearly as big as the Riverside Garrison. Night was falling when Theo peeked into Dorian’s tent, still in his armor. “Cullen needs to see us,” Theo said.

“Why do I feel like a naughty child about to get into trouble?” Dorian asked, but Theo just beckoned him to follow, so he did with a sigh.

Cullen glanced up from his tactical maps when they approached. With him was a willowy-framed young man who looked familiar, but Dorian could not quite recall from where. “This is Cole,” Theo said. “He… helps. He’s the one who alerted us that the Red Templars were coming to Haven.” Dorian furrowed his brow. Now that Theo mentioned it, he did recall something of the sort. “Cole was able to find a Venatori camp out here earlier today, and he’s volunteered to go with us tonight to take them out.”

Part of Dorian swelled with excitement and gratitude that Theo would be willing to do this for him. “This may be the most immature and irresponsible thing you’ve yet suggested,” he said instead. “You can’t say you condone this, Commander,” he said to Cullen, ignoring the stunned expression on Theo’s face.

Cullen glanced up. “Engaging the Venatori with the army would be more foolish. What Cole and the Inquisitor are suggesting is an ambush by night: a small tactical force with ranged weapons and magic, while Cole goes in and neutralizes threats,” he said grimly.

Dorian glanced between Cullen and Theo. “It would work,” he finally conceded. “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to reduce the Venatori’s numbers. But the Inquisitor remains behind,” he said firmly.

Theo glared at him. “No. I’m going.”

“Dorian makes a good point,” Cullen said quietly. “You’re easily the best archer I’ve ever met, but this is dangerous.”

“Isn’t everything we do?” Theo asked. His voice had a hysterical edge to it. “What makes this any different?”

“We’re going in against a Venatori sleeper cell,” Dorian said. “This isn’t demons or Fade rifts or bandits.” He tried to meet Theo’s gaze, but Theo wouldn’t look at him, and his cheeks were flushed. “It’s for your safety,” he said quietly.

“Let him come with us,” Cole said in his soft voice. “He wants to help. He’ll help anyway; he doesn’t need permission to do what he wishes.” He had a strange smile on his fair face and his flaxen hair fell into his light eyes.

Cullen and Dorian stared at Theo, who shrugged. “He’s right?” Theo asked.

Cullen sighed and scratched at his curls. “I only command the Inquisition forces,” he said at last. “I don’t command the Inquisitor himself. I can only advise you to remain behind for your own safety,” he said.

But Dorian knew that gleam in Theo’s eyes and knew that there would be no holding him back. Cole remembered the layout of the Venatori camp perfectly, which again left Dorian wondering just what he was. Even Dorian couldn’t read Theo’s mind that well, and Theo was an open book to him. Theo consented to remaining a ranged attacker and not getting into the fray, if it came to it. He wasn’t happy about that, and Dorian wasn’t happy about even that much. But there was no overruling Theo, not when he had Cullen backing him up, or when he was _this_ determined.

“Do me a favor and stay alive, would you?” Dorian said when they finally broke to make preparations for the raid. He couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice.

“I wouldn’t dream of dying without asking your permission first,” Theo said, but he wasn’t smiling.

Dorian grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. “You keep saying you want your life to mean something, and yet you’re so keen on running headlong into danger,” he said. “You don’t need to prove anything to anybody. Least of all me,” he added softly, and pulled Theo into a hug. “ _He’s_ not here, either, and fuck him to the Void.”

Theo tensed for a moment, and then sighed. “No fair bringing my father into the argument,” he said softly. He returned the embrace. “I’m not trying to prove anything, I just… look, if you don’t want me running into dangerous situations, what makes you think I’m fine with you doing the same thing?”

“The Inquisition can function without me. Not true of you.”

Theo sighed and nuzzled Dorian’s neck. “Maybe _I_ can’t function without you,” he murmured. “How well would the Inquisition function then?”

Dorian was caught off guard by the emotion that coursed through him, leaving him warm and tingly and _scared_. “Then I, Dorian of House Pavus, do solemnly swear not to die tonight,” he said, then pulled away from Theo and went to grab his staff. He had Venatori to kill.


	15. One Less Venatori

_Chapter 15: One Less Venatori_

Theo hadn’t seen Dorian so grim before. Even when they’d first met, when he was fighting a losing battle against a Fade rift in the Redcliffe Chantry, Dorian had been pleasant, if a bit sardonic. But as they crept over the hills in the dark, guided by starlight and Theo’s sharp eyes, Dorian was silent and tense. Theo longed to touch him, to tell him that things were going to be fine. Every time he glanced over, Dorian would not look at him. He was still unhappy that Theo was along.

He sighed. He appreciated Dorian’s concern, but he’d fought Venatori before when they’d first met, and Theo didn’t understand why now was any different, except for the fact they had feelings for each other.

They crested a rise that looked down into a dell. A fire burned in the center of a camp. A blur of movement caught his eye, and Theo watched Cole steal silently down the hill. He didn’t move like any human Theo knew, and he’d met many stealthy individuals during his training. Cullen was tense; he would make too much noise if he went now, but the strain of the wait was evident. Theo scanned below; no sign of Cole.

Then a man came stumbling out of his tent, clutching a gaping gash in his abdomen; the blood was dark in the firelight, but Theo could tell there was a lot of it. There was a moment of silence in the camp as the Venatori began to realize what was happening, and then they started running about, shouting and looking.

Dorian didn’t hesitate. He brandished his staff and fired off a spell; one Venatori caught the brunt of the spell and staggered, but remained upright. Theo wondered why Dorian hadn’t blasted him with his primal magic; the man was talking to his companions, pointing in their direction. Just when Theo thought they’d be seen, Dorian smiled and waved his staff in an arc.

The man exploded.

The people around him fell, some clutching at injuries.

Dorian kept firing off spells, and now Cullen was heading into the fray. Cole was somewhere, slashing. Theo moved away from Dorian and flanked the camp. It was dark, but he’d hunted game in the dense forests at night. He nocked an arrow, took aim, let it fly. He fell into the easy rhythm, distracting the Venatori and crippling as many as possible while Dorian called upon the power of Fade spirits drawn to death.

Cullen moved through the pack of Venatori, slashing with his sword and bashing with his shield. Theo picked off those that he had a clear shot at; the last thing he needed was to wound his commander, especially when Cullen had stood up for him. And then Cole was materializing out of nowhere, his daggers a ghostly gleam in the starlight as he slashed throats.

Theo lowered his bow, but suddenly realized that there were no spells flying. Dorian’s mana reserves ran deep, he knew, and there was no way Dorian he would have run low so soon. Theo turned back toward Dorian, who was battling with a Venatori in close combat. Theo drew his bow and let loose an arrow, which missed. Shit. The two mages were moving too quickly, and it was too dark.

He closed in and grabbed another arrow; nocked it; fired. Missed. He watched as Dorian took a hit from the other mage’s staff right in the stomach. Anger flared up in Theo and he went for another arrow, but he was out.

The Venatori mage hit Dorian again and Theo did the only thing he could think of and charged the other mage. He was vaguely aware that Dorian was swearing at him, and then he was rolling down the hill into the camp with his hands around the other mage’s neck. He was dizzy from the roll and the firelight was suddenly bright, and there were shouts and the clash of Cullen’s weapons.

Suddenly a stabbing pain shot through Theo’s skull and he fell backward off the Venatori, who scrambled back, gasping. Theo clutched at his head with one hand and tried to get up, but couldn’t. He felt around for his bow, but he must have dropped it. He didn’t remember what he’d been doing, only that there was a Venatori mage bearing down on him, pointing at him with a staff, the tip of which was glowing with fire. _I should move. I should get up and go away,_ Theo thought, but couldn’t.

Then the mage was doubled over, clutching at a wound in his stomach, and Cullen slammed his shield into the man. The mage staggered back and fell, and Cullen finished him off with a stroke of his sword. By then Cole was finishing up dispatching the other Venatori, and Dorian was storming down the hill in a rage. Theo got to his feet, still rubbing his head and wondering what had happened. His mind was fuzzy, but he wasn’t drunk and he hadn’t hit his head.

“What were you _doing?”_ Dorian snapped, his handsome face spattered with blood and twisted with a mix of relief and anger.

“Dorian, it’s over,” Cullen said, wiping his brow. “I think we’re all fine.”

“You nearly got yourself killed,” Dorian said.

Theo looked down, still feeling dazed, and saw Dorian clutching the front of his light breastplate. He looked into Dorian’s eyes, so pretty in the firelight… “I’m… not dead. I was protecting you,” he said. Why was Dorian so upset? Dorian pulled him closer and stared into his eyes. “You have nice eyes, you know,” Theo said.

Dorian sighed. “He got hit with a mind blast,” he said, releasing Theo.

“Will he be alright?” Cullen asked.

Dorian tapped his chin. “Given time.”

“Can you get him back to our camp?” Cullen asked. “Cole and I can search this area for anything of use.”

Theo listened to the conversation go on without him. He was suddenly feeling very tired, as if he had no will to keep going. Dorian handed him his bow, then guided him back to camp with a warm hand on his back. The night was dark and starry, and so pleasant…

 

* * *

 

_Fasta_ fucking _vass._ Theo _would_ completely pass out in the middle of nowhere. Dorian wasn’t a weakling, but he was pretty certain he wouldn’t be able to drag Theo back to camp. He’d exhausted his favor with the spirits for the evening, so that was out as well.

He knelt in the grass and rested one hand on Theo’s forehead. He sent out the tiniest trickle of mana and felt the residual effects of the spell. It seemed the spell would have no lasting consequences, which was a relief. Dorian sighed and lit the end of his staff like a beacon. Someone would see the light. Until then all he could do was wait.

He settled on the ground and rested Theo’s head in his lap. “You were lucky this time,” he said quietly. “One day you won’t be. Then what will I do?” He held his staff with one hand and rested the other one across Theo’s chest. He gazed up to the sky and tried to pick out the constellations he’d learned as a child. This far south though everything was slightly off, so he sighed and waited.

Time passed and Dorian realized he was starting to doze when the sound of heavy footfalls startled him out of a half sleep. He didn’t disturb Theo, but held his staff out. To his relief, it was Cullen approaching. “I got as far as I could before he passed out,” Dorian said by way of explanation. “It was a fairly strong spell.”

Cullen just nodded. He knelt and gently slapped Theo’s cheek. “Inquisitor. Theodane. Wake up,” he snapped. Theo’s eyelids fluttered. He blinked and gave Cullen a strange look. “Come on. Back to camp, where we’ll discuss this later,” Cullen said. He tugged on Theo’s arm and they managed to get him to his feet. Cullen and Dorian each draped one of Theo’s arms over their shoulders and managed to get him stumbling back to camp.

Cassandra rushed over and Bull looked up, unhappy, as they entered the camp. “He’ll be fine,” Cullen said, a bit too brightly. “Just a spell that should wear off by the morning.” _I hope,_ Dorian thought, but he smiled to echo Cullen’s confidence and put the people at ease.

They got Theo into his tent and unceremoniously dropped him on the cot. “I can brief Cassandra and Bull,” Cullen said. “Can you take care of the Inquisitor?”

Dorian nodded. “I’ll do whatever is in my power,” he said, and Cullen left them alone.

Dorian touched Theo’s hand, again sending out the thread of detection. The magic was still in his system, but the effects weren’t worsening. He worked to get Theo’s breastplate off, figuring he’d be more comfortable and sleep better.

And now that he was sitting in safety, Dorian could feel just how tired he was. His eyelids drooped and he yawned. He climbed onto the camp cot and lay down with his arms around Theo. A small part of him warned of any number of reasons why he shouldn’t do it, but he was too tired to care, and too relieved Theo didn’t seem permanently damaged. “I’ll yell at you in the morning,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

Theo felt like he had a hangover. It was hard to ride his horse when feeling this dizzy, but he assured Cullen and Cassandra that he was ready to continue on toward the Western Approach the next day. The last thing he needed were more “I told you so” lectures and glares. He’d made a mistake, and he was going to deal with the consequences.

Dorian rode alongside him. He didn’t say much, though Theo swore he remembered the mage saying something about yelling at him. Theo was pretty sure he deserved to be yelled at, and yet Dorian remained quiet, which was worse. Theo didn’t say anything either; no sense encouraging Dorian’s wrath. Besides, he’d woken up with Dorian sleeping beside him. It was far more than Theo deserved.

But… he’d tackled that Venatori to protect Dorian. What was so bad about that?

They continued west, occasionally meeting up with roving bandits or mercenary groups. Sometimes it was a band of refugees, looking for shelter from the Orlesian civil war. Cullen and Cassandra pointed them toward Skyhold or the Riverside Garrison, where the able bodied could join up with the Inquisition if they wished. “We’re not going to be able to feed them all,” Cullen said with a sigh.

“They’re safer there than they are out here,” Cassandra said, gazing around. They were coming to the end of the Exalted Plains. The grass was sparser and the air warmer. There was still plenty of potable water to be found, and the supply officers began collecting it in barrels for their trek into the Western Approach. “The Maker surely was feeling spent when He came to create this place,” she said, shaking her head.

“What’s out there?” Theo asked, riding up alongside her. His education had consisted mostly of learning the Chant inside and out, quoting mindlessly whenever he was asked. He’d learned Chantry history, but little of politics and geography of Thedas outside of the Free Marches, and now his ignorance annoyed him.

Cassandra explained what she knew of the Western Approach as they rode on under a bright blue sky and a hot, unrelenting sun. “Forward scouts report a fortress nearby,” she said. “If we could claim it, it would provide an excellent base of operations during our time here.”

Theo surveyed the army force. The main army had remained behind at Skyhold, but they’d also welcomed in some Orlesian soldiers tired of the civil war. “Let’s scout the keep and find out if we can take it,” he said at last. “I can send Cole in with a couple other scouts,” he decided. “Until then, let’s find a halfway decent place to set up a camp and wait.”

Cullen and Cassandra seemed to agree, so they rode on for another few hours under a hot sun. The grasses gave way entirely to rolling dunes and orange-toned rocky structures that reached for the sky. Theo squinted against the brightness, such a contrast after the overcast Exalted Plains. He’d never thought, or even hoped, to see a place like this.

The sun began to dip in the sky, so they stopped to set up camp. Theo handed his horse off to a squire and stood on the edge of the activity, surveying the horizon. He loosened his armor and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“The desert is freezing at night,” Dorian said, approaching him. His normally perfect hair was soaked with sweat, and his mustache drooped a little bit. “And you know how I feel about the cold.”

“Are you saying you forgive me for being stupid?” Theo asked. His heartbeat fluttered a bit. Ever since he’d thrown himself into the fray against the Venatori, Dorian had been a bit reserved. “I really am sorry, you know. I wasn’t thinking. Well I was, but about protecting you.”

“I know, and I suppose that’s what’s been on my mind,” Dorian said, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. “You just threw yourself into it without thinking of yourself. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before; and then when there was the possibility of you being hurt, or having your mind permanently damaged… it made me realize what I could lose. We don’t do vulnerability very well in Tevinter,” he explained. “If I’ve been distant it’s because you make me feel things that I’m not accustomed to.”

It was hot and sticky, but Theo wrapped his arms around Dorian anyway. “I feel like we both have a lot to learn about this sort of thing,” he said.

“It is quite the learning curve,” Dorian agreed. He pulled back and met Theo’s eyes. “But if we are to take this keep, which is likely held by Venatori, can you please promise me to be more careful?”

“For you? Yes,” Theo said.

Hunters had set out nearly as soon as they broke for camp, and as the sun set and the first stars blinked into the sky they came back with game. The fires were stoked and tents set up, and the temperature did begin to drop rapidly. Theo cleaned up the best he could and wrapped himself in a cloak. He ate, he drank, but there was nothing much else to do until the scouts came back with news, so he retreated to his tent.

“Awfully large for one person,” Dorian said, joining him. He’d removed his armor and was dressed in a loose shirt and pants.

Theo could see the outline of his body through the sheer material and he wanted to see more than just an outline. He managed to keep his feelings in check—no small task—and shrugged. “You don’t have to hint, you know. You can just ask to stay.”

Dorian was staring at the ground. “I know.”

Theo sighed. “Fine then. It’d make me happy if you stayed with me,” he said, holding out his hand. Dorian took it after a moment and Theo led him to his cot, where he sat down and held Dorian to him. He kissed his neck, right where the collar of his shirt opened, and Dorian’s breath hissed in.

Then Dorian was straddling him, kissing him like their lives depended on it, like neither of them had ever been kissed before. “Maker, Theo, you drive me to madness,” he said, his breath hot in Theo’s ear. Theo just kissed him harder, his lips trailing over his jaw, down his neck, across his exposed collarbone. The shirt was in the way. His fingers fumbled with the laces and Dorian obliged and pulled it over his head. Theo ran his hands along Dorian’s sides and his thumbs brushed over Dorian’s nipples as he kept kissing his neck.

Dorian gave a strangled gasp and his back arched slightly; Theo took it to mean he was enjoying it. Theo leaned back on the cot with Dorian on top of him. He gasped as Dorian’s hand cupped his growing member through his breeches and began to stroke through the fabric. “Just… returning the favor,” Theo said, hardly able to move from the sensations Dorian was causing him. He tried to undo the laces of his breeches, but Dorian stopped him with a hand over his.

Theo blinked and tried to catch his breath. Dorian sat back, the lamplight illuminating the planes of his chest. His hair was tousled, his cheeks slightly flushed. “We’ve talked about so many things that I hesitate to talk more,” Dorian said at last.

Theo rested his hands on Dorian’s hips, his fingers toying with the waistband of his pants. “Your timing could use some work,” he joked. He understood Dorian’s need to establish boundaries and understandings, but Maker’s balls! He wanted to keep feeling Dorian’s hands all over him.

Dorian smiled slightly. “I’m glad I’m able to please you,” he said. “But I wonder, have you ever been with a man?” Theo blushed deeply at the personal question. “I thought so,” Dorian said. “What about a woman?”

“If I said yes?” Theo asked, biting on his lip and looking away.

“Then you’ve been with a woman,” Dorian said with a shrug. He rested a hand on Theo’s cheek. “I won’t lie. I’m experienced, and only with men. I don’t wish to take advantage of your inexperience.”

Theo closed his eyes. “Is it taking advantage if I want it?”

Dorian climbed off of him and rested on his side, his head propped on his hand. “Will you tell me about it?” he asked, rather than answer.

Theo felt his face burn all the way to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t look at Dorian. He’d never even told his brother what had happened in that brothel; he’d been polite and noncommittal when Gavriel asked, with a lurid grin, how it went; Gave hadn’t ever offered again—for which Theo was grateful. “It was my brother’s idea,” he said, and told Dorian what had happened. “I know he meant well, but…”

Dorian furrowed his brow. “And nothing between then and now?”

Theo laughed. “I was supposed to go to the Chantry; getting laid didn’t matter, and there wasn’t anyone in Ostwick quite… well, quite like you,” he said, turning to finally look at Dorian.

Dorian rested his head on Theo’s chest. “All the more reason for us to take this slowly. We have so much potential to hurt one another if we’re not careful,” he said, and the frightened edge in his voice gave Theo a pang. He would never try to hurt Dorian. He wrapped his arm around Dorian, who pulled the blankets up over them. “I never thought to care about anyone,” he murmured into Theo’s chest. “You must understand why this makes me apprehensive.”

“I do,” Theo said. He reached over to put out the lamp, bathing them in darkness. This was the first time they’d intentionally been in bed together, and having Dorian in his arms, in the dark, filled Theo with a fierce pride and deep joy. “I hope one day we don’t feel the need for apprehension,” he said.

He felt Dorian smile, the end of his mustache tickling his bare chest. “As do I.”

 

* * *

 

The reports confirmed that Griffon Wing Keep was occupied by Venatori. They were strong enemies, but like all Tevinters, they had one major downfall: pride. They hadn’t thought that a token Inquisition force, led by Cassandra, Dorian, and Iron Bull, would be able to defeat them and take the keep.

But now Inquisition soldiers were pouring through the main gate, routing the rest of the keep and getting settled in their new outpost. Theo and Cullen directed the setup while Dorian and Cassandra sat in the dungeons and watched the Iron Bull work.

Initially Cassandra had demanded that they take no prisoners. “Kill everyone and send a message to the Venatori,” she insisted, but now she watched with appreciation as they got a firsthand look at a Ben-Hassrath agent doing his job.

Dorian often forgot that the Bull was Ben-Hassrath these days. A warrior? Certainly. A Qunari? Yes. But not a spy. But it seemed that was just the way the Bull wanted it. “People never expect a Qunari,” Bull said with a grin as he paced before the first of several Venatori prisoners, each bound with lyrium-infused shackles. Dorian knew from experience that those alone would be extremely painful. But a morbid curiosity kept him watching the Bull.

“Do you know anything about the Grey Wardens?” Bull asked the man.

The man spat on Bull’s foot and swore in Tevene. Dorian chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ll be saying worse than that by the end,” he said. “The Seeker and I are in on a little secret about our big friend here. I’d suggest you talk.”

“You are a traitor and a disgrace to the Imperium,” the man snapped. “I await the day the Elder One rips your magic from your body and crushes you underfoot!”

Dorian sighed. “Bull?”

The Iron Bull stood before the man, his hulking form blocking out what he was doing; but the garbled screams coming from him were enough of a hint that it was unpleasant. “Our contact said the Grey Wardens were out here in the Western Approach,” he said pleasantly. “Explain why, or I’ll do it again.”

“They followed us. We can help them. They will put an end to the Blights forever,” the man sobbed. Whatever the Bull had done had been effective.

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ stop talking!” another Venatori snapped, and Cassandra strolled over to him. He glared up at her. “The Seekers are through. You are the last of nothing!” She sighed and backhanded him across the face with her studded glove.

“Are all in Tevinter so arrogant?” she grumbled when she rejoined Dorian.

He chuckled. “No. Some are more so.”

Bull wasn’t getting much else out of the first Venatori, so he moved onto the one Cassandra had hit. “Do you have a leader? Someone with more information?” he asked. “Someone who was in charge of this outfit at the keep? Which is ours now, by the way,” he added. “You’ve pretty much failed, so there’s little point in trying to hold out.”

“Never. You fucking oversized cow,” he snapped.

Bull sighed. “It’s Bull. The Iron Bull. I like the article. Makes me sound like a dangerous force, more than a person.” And then he did something that made Dorian look away and swallow against the lump growing in his throat. The man was screaming, noises that sounded more fitting to an animal in the forest than any human. “A name.”

Even Cassandra looked away. “He is effective,” she murmured to Dorian. She looked stoic as always, but she winced when the man’s screams intensified.

This went on for quite some time, Bull moving down the line of Venatori prisoners without hesitation. Dorian was pretty sure the first two were dead, and the third would be soon. But amid the screams and cries, at last someone shouted a name. “Eremond! We’re acting under Eremond’s orders!”

It was Dorian’s turn to swear.


	16. No More Walls

_Chapter 16: No More Walls_

 

Stroud and Hawke met up with the Inquisition forces at Griffon Wing Keep a day later. “We tracked the Venatori to an old tower built here specifically for blood sacrifices,” Hawke said. She turned and spit as she said it. Theo made a mental note to always wear his boots when she was around.

They sat around a large table that had been set for a communal dinner, picking at the food here and there. The news Stroud brought was grim. “The Grey Warden mages are using the blood sacrifice of their warriors to bind demons. We watched it happen,” he said, anguish in his voice. “I joined the Order to protect and to serve, and now my brethren slaughter one another.”

“One of the assholes I questioned mentioned the name Eremond,” Bull said. He was the only one who seemed able to maintain his appetite. “You seem in the know about these sorts,” he said to Dorian.

“Livius Eremond,” Dorian said with a sigh. “I had interactions with him while I lived in Minrathous. If the man isn’t possessed by a Pride Demon, then I’m not sure how else to explain his attitude.” He glanced at Bull. “Yes, I know. That describes most Tevinter Magisters. But if you’d ever met Eremond…”

Theo detected the chill in Dorian’s voice. “What you’re saying is that he’s not like the ones we’ve encountered before. He’s even more dangerous.”

“Yes. Picture Alexius, if he’d not been quite so desperate.”

Theo nodded. “So we find out what they’re doing with this demon army, and where they’re headed to next,” he said, glancing around the table. Cassandra and Cullen nodded their agreement; Bull seemed grim, though that could be the aftermath of interrogating the prisoners. Theo had asked about it, but no one, even Dorian, would tell him what exactly Bull had done to get them to talk.

“It’s possible they’re heading to Adamant Fortress,” Stroud said. “Hawke and I were discovered and overwhelmed before we could get details. We barely escaped,” he said.

“Cullen, what do you know about Adamant?” Theo asked. He felt the tension tightening into a knot in his forehead. So much information; what was he to do with it all?

Cullen had some ideas, and Cassandra filled in with her knowledge as well. The more they told him the more Theo had the sinking feeling that they would not have enough forces. “Let’s send word to Skyhold for reinforcements,” he finally decided. “We have plenty of space at this keep and can get it up and running as an outpost.” Plans were made to scout the Western Approach and the outlying areas around Adamant.

A knock sounded and a page peeked in. “Master Pavus, someone here to see you,” he said before ducking out quickly, as if afraid of having interrupted the council in session.

Theo gave Dorian a quizzical look, but Dorian merely smiled as he took his leave. Theo would have to talk with him later. He had full confidence in Dorian’s ability to take care of himself, but the fact that someone had come to visit with him, when they’d only been here in this keep for a couple days, was strange.

The Iron Bull caught Theo’s concerned stare and gave him a nod before getting up and leaving as well. Dammit, Theo thought; he was really going to have to work on his facial expressions. The Inquisition wouldn’t have any secrets if he kept giving it all away.

Soon Theo was left alone with Cassandra and Cullen. “You are doing well,” Cassandra said, breaking the silence that had descended. “There is much to consider, but you’re handling it well.”

“Am I?” Theo asked with a ghost of a smile. He sank in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He felt grubby and exhausted and clueless. “I wasn’t made for any of this,” he said with a rueful laugh.

“I don’t think any of us were,” Cullen said, sipping at his wine. “We’re all doing the best we can under the circumstances. I think if your family could see you now they’d be quite proud of the job you’re doing.”

Theo tried to smile, but the thought of his family made him feel queasy. Or maybe it was just the exhaustion. “Thank you, Commander, it means a lot to hear that from you,” he said.

Cassandra tapped her fingers on the table, deep in thought. “We captured this keep from under their upturned noses,” she said. “We struck a blow they did not anticipate. They think the Inquisition weak and ineffectual,” she said.

“They’re not the only ones,” Theo said.

“They’re learning quickly,” Cullen said.

Cassandra smiled, her gray-green eyes gleaming in the lamplight. “We don’t have to start with force,” she said. “What if we send for this Eremond and seek to speak with him?”

Theo sat up a bit more. Cullen was leaning forward, a slight smile on his face. “Bring him on our terms. Show him what we’re made of. Yes, I like the idea. Inquisitor?” he asked, startling Theo to attention. “It’s an excellent idea, but we would not proceed without your agreement.”

It was just Theo, Cullen, and Cassandra in the room. They locked eyes on Theo, whose mind was spinning. He had the options of an all-out assault on Adamant Fortress, or the chance to ambush the Eremond on the Inquisition’s terms. “We’ll do it,” he decided.

Cullen nodded. “Excellent. But we should still send for reinforcements. If the Venatori won’t listen to our talks, we may just have to let the army do the talking for us.” Cullen waved and a page brought materials for him to begin writing messages to send home to Skyhold. Cassandra poured a bit more wine and started in on her reports. The sun was starting to set when Theo came out of the hall and began scouting the ramparts for signs of the Iron Bull. He found the Qunari standing on a lookout platform, surveying the desert.

“From here, you almost can’t tell that the place is populated with all sorts of weird shit,” Bull said, leaning on a railing. “What’s the scoop, Boss?”

Theo joined him. “Going to try talking first. I don’t know that it will do any good, but at least they’ll know we mean business.”

The Bull nodded. “Never found talking with Vints to be very helpful,” he said. He gave Theo a sidelong glance and a grin. “Though you seem to have some luck.”

Theo’s cheeks burned, but he also couldn’t help but smile. “So I do. Did you happen to hear anything?” he asked.

Bull shrugged. “Nothing much. New merchant arrived, which is odd, this being the second day in the keep. Little Orlesian guy named Ponchard. Dorian was talking with him. Seemed to know him, but wasn’t too happy with him. And he wasn’t too happy about dragging his pampered Orlesian ass out into the desert only to be bitched at by a Vint,” he added with a rumbling chuckle.

“Interesting,” Theo murmured, staring out over the desert sunset. A huge shape in the sky caught his eye, and his breath caught in his throat. “Is that…”

Bull’s eye followed Theo’s gaze and a huge smile stretched over his scarred face. “Yep. A dragon. Ever seen one?” he asked, but Theo was speechless, staring at the beast in the sky. Bull sighed, sounding happier and more content than Theo had ever heard him. “Fucking amazing. What I would give to fight one up close.” He muttered something in Qunlat.

Theo watched for another moment, having never hoped to see a dragon at all—let alone contemplate fighting one. He headed back for the courtyard, which was still bustling. In the gathering dark, and with so many people around, it was difficult for him to tell which one might be Ponchard. He sighed and made his way deeper into the keep, where the living quarters were. Most were sharing the large rooms, spreading out cots and bedrolls. Even at this early hour of the night people were sleeping, likely having taken guard duty the night before.

His room was at the end of the hall, and he’d nearly leapt with joy when he’d seen the adjoining room with a cut stone bathtub. “Shall I draw a bath, Your Worship?” a servant asked as he entered. Theo nodded and paced about his quarters while he waited for the stone tub to fill. He looked out over the rolling desert, now bathed in shades of blue and violet. Another servant came and lit the lamps and spread clean linens on the bed; it was basically like setting up camp, only within walls.

And with a bath.

Theo thanked the servants and they left only after he reassured them several times that he didn’t need anything else. Once alone he shed his clothing and slipped into the tub. He closed his eyes and listened to the quiet. He’d so hated the quiet growing up; he’d run through the halls of the Trevelyan manor laughing and singing and crying just to break the serious silence of the stones. These days he got so little of it.

He heard the door creak open; he figured it was yet another servant, but he recognized the footfalls of Dorian’s confident gait and felt at once elated and terrified that Dorian would see him like this. But that was ridiculous; they were together, and so close to truly becoming lovers. It was going to happen eventually. “In here,” Theo called, resigned to the fact that he had no escape. Well, he did; but it would make things even more awkward trying.

“Well this is a sight,” Dorian said. Theo didn’t look; he hugged his knees to his chest. “I feel the need to pinch myself and be certain this isn’t the Fade.” He sat on the edge of the tub and trailed his fingers in the water. He wore the loose clothing he favored for camp, a set of trousers and a flowing silk shirt the color of deep copper. “You were in with the Commander for quite some time after I left,” he ventured when Theo remained silent.

“There was much to discuss,” Theo answered with a shrug. “Do we have to talk about it now, though?” he asked. “I think we need to make a rule that the bedroom is a work-free area.” He chuckled.

“Mm. I like that rule,” Dorian said. He knelt behind Theo and began rubbing his neck and shoulders, and in spite of his nerves Theo couldn’t help but relax. He didn’t realize just how tense he was. “You can relax with me, you know,” Dorian teased, gently working a knot out of Theo’s neck.

“The last person to see me like this was my mother. Twenty years ago,” Theo said with a laugh. But Dorian did have a point, and his touch felt so good that he unclasped his hands and let his legs fall back in the water.

“Care to tell me more about your family?” Dorian asked.

“If you tell me about Ponchard.”

Dorian’s hands stopped. “It’s nothing with which to concern yourself,” he said at last.

Theo grabbed his hand. “A mysterious Orlesian shows up looking specifically for you when we’ve only been established here for a couple days? I’m quite concerned,” he said, but he was smiling. “You can tell me,” he added. “Or… I could pull you in here with me.”

“Oh, I quite intend to join you,” Dorian said and Theo could hear the smile in his voice.

“Fully clothed.”

Dorian yanked his hand away. “This shirt is Tevinter silk,” he said, sounding mildly offended. “It makes Orlesian silk look and feel like badly woven wool.”

“Then take it off.” Theo took a deep breath. “Join me. The water’s lovely. Maker it’s going to feel good to be really clean again,” he added. He heard the rustling of clothing and then Dorian was climbing into the water with him. Theo watched the way he moved with a fluid grace, as comfortable in his skin as he was in his clothing. And from what Theo saw, Dorian had every reason to be confident and comfortable. “Tell me about Ponchard?” he asked again. Now that he could see Dorian, Theo saw how his expression fell when the name came up.

Dorian sighed and flicked water at Theo’s face. “You always look so sweet and innocent. You lure me in with your charms and then I’m in a position where it’s impossible to refuse you,” he said with a half smile.

“ _You_ always play so hard to get,” Theo countered, splashing him back. “I wake up with you in bed with me, then you go days hardly saying a word, then we’re in bed again…” He sighed. “I know you blame the whole Tevinter upbringing thing. But if you want me to be vulnerable enough to be naked in the water with you, it may be time for you to be fine with being vulnerable with me. Stop playing hard to get,” he said.

Dorian sighed and sank lower in the water, as if he could escape Theo’s pointed gaze. One foot absently stroked Theo’s calf. “You’re right,” he said at last. He took a deep breath. “You give so much for me and you’re so transparent with me. I’ve… I’ve not been a very good lover,” he admitted, his face reddening. “ _Fasta vass_ I’m not used to admitting when I’m in the wrong.”

Theo caught his ankle under the water and gently rubbed at it. Dorian’s eyelids fluttered and he tried to hide a ghost of a smile but failed. “If you need me to spell it out for you, I will,” he offered. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you. I… care for you and like you as you are,” he said, though words like ‘care’ and ‘like’ seemed somehow inadequate to describe how he felt. Yet he feared to voice the true depth of his feelings for fear of frightening Dorian. And to tell the truth, it scared him just a bit as well.

Dorian took his hand and squeezed. “In that case… I’m gotten,” he said with a shrug and a shy smile Theo had never seen before. Dorian shifted and sat next to Theo. “I’d never intentionally hurt you,” he said, kissing him. “I apologize if my selfish fears have done so.”

“I know why you’re scared because I am too,” Theo said. “But… isn’t this… aren’t _we_ stronger than fear? There’s so much out there to be scared of. Why add this to the list?”

Dorian swallowed. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. No more walls.”

“No more walls,” Theo agreed, draping his arm around Dorian’s shoulders. “So… can you tell me why a random Orlesian merchant is here to see you?”

Dorian played with Theo’s fingers, focusing on his hand rather than Theo himself. “When I escaped from my family I left Tevinter with very little. My father had already cut me off financially to try and coerce me into obedience, so I had hardly any coin to my name. I had to sell the one thing of value that I possessed.” Theo had only seen him look so sad once before, and that was just after the confrontation with his father. “I had an amulet: a symbol of my birthright as the heir of House Pavus. I sold it,” he said with a shrug. “I was young, I was desperate, and at the time I _wanted_ to be free of all that marked me as Halward’s son,” he said.

“So why do you want it back?” Theo asked.

“My father mentioned my lack of it when we spoke,” Dorian said. “I realized that having it doesn’t tie me to him if I don’t want it to. I decided I wanted it back. But Monsieur Ponchard doesn’t seem willing to part with it,” he grumbled.

“I could talk to him,” Theo suggested.

“Maker, no! Never!” Dorian snapped, pulling back and staring at Theo, looking almost horrified. “I promised myself I would not be in debt to you over this.”

Theo sighed. “It wouldn’t _be_ a debt, Dorian. It would be me doing something for you because I want to. Because I care about you,” he said, and skimmed his hand over the surface of the water rather than look at Dorian.

Dorian took a deep breath and Theo thought he was about to say something, but he squeezed his eyes shut and slipped below the surface of the water. When he resurfaced the water streamed off of him. His hair was plastered to his head and he rubbed his eyes. “I appreciate your sentiments,” he said finally. “You are good to me, truly. Now get over here and turn around. I wasn’t finished rubbing your shoulders.”

Nearly an hour later Dorian had started a fire in the hearth to help ward off the night chill, and Theo was wearing Dorian’s Tevinter silk shirt and nothing else. He rolled over on the bed. “You’re right. This shirt is fantastic. I’m glad I didn’t have to ruin it,” he said playfully.

“Me too. It looks lovely on you,” Dorian said. He stretched out like a cat in the warm glow of the flames, wearing naught but his smallclothes. “You were right. It feels fantastic to finally be clean again. And to be in a proper room with you. With a door and everything.”

Theo rested his head on Dorian’s chest. “No chance of anyone walking in,” he said.

“On what? Us cuddling?” Dorian joked, his hand creeping along Theo’s side and coming to rest on his hip. Theo shivered involuntarily at Dorian’s touch on his bare skin. He trailed his fingers over Dorian’s chest. Dorian inhaled sharply; Theo shifted position and kissed Dorian, one hand absently teasing the waistband of Dorian’s smallclothes. “Sure. Cuddling,” Theo said with a grin. The only walls now were those of the keep; it was amazing, and Theo wanted to savor every moment of it.

It was going to be a long night, and Theo couldn’t wait.

* * *

It was past the noon hour when a horseman came back with news that Livius Eremond would come to speak with the Inquisition the day after next. “I think you should do the talking,” Theo told Dorian. He sat in the shade stripping twigs for more arrows. He examined one critically and shaved a bit more off.

“You’re daft if you think that,” Dorian said without looking up from what he was reading. “I have history with Eremond and none of it is pleasant.”

Theo sighed. “You’re more suited to this than I am. You’re smarter. Well spoken. You have conviction,” he said.

“And you think you lack intelligence, wit, and conviction?”

“I know I do,” Theo said. “Sometimes I wish I could be more like you,” he confessed.

Dorian laughed. “More like me? If you were more like me you’d be insufferable and I don’t think I could stand you. Maker knows how I stand myself most days.” Theo tried to smile, but his hands, working with his knife and the wood, gave away his anxieties. “What you need to do is be completely certain of yourself, even if you’re not. We Tevinters can _smell_ weakness,” he said. He closed his book and focused on Theo. “You must not defer to anyone. You are the Inquisitor, and the voice of authority.”

Theo nodded. “This is why I need you,” he said with a smile. “You tell me what I need to hear.”

“You don’t deserve any less,” Dorian said, lightly squeezing his knee. It was a simple, small gesture of affection, but the fact that Dorian was growing increasingly comfortable with being public about their relationship meant a great deal to Theo. “It’s quite likely that my presence at this meeting with Eremond could prove damaging to your authority,” he said after a moment of thought.

The idea of going into this meeting without Dorian by his side made Theo feel ill; he’d begun relying on Dorian’s confidence—not just the mage’s confidence in himself, but also his confidence in Theo as the Inquisitor. “I’ll miss you,” Theo said at last. “But I trust you. You know Eremond better than any of us.”

The rest of the day Theo spent practicing being confident. He carried himself straight and tall, shoulders back the way Dorian told him—more like snapped at him whenever he caught Theo slumping. He gave subtle nods of greeting and met peoples’ eyes whenever he could. “You look ridiculous, Boss,” Iron Bull said with a chuckle as Theo passed by. For a fraction of a moment Theo nearly reverted to his usual state, but thought it could be a test of his resolve, so he only held himself taller and stiffer.

He observed Cassandra in private, the way she carried herself almost haughtily, self-assured of her abilities and faith. The Iron Bull looked relaxed, but always seemed ready to spring into action. Cullen was secure in his knowledge as a commander, Dorian comfortable with his grasp of magic and self-awareness.

They all had the one thing Theo lacked: years of experience.

For a moment he wanted to wallow in his self-pity, but if he even tried someone would smack sense into him. No, he didn’t have experience, but experience was not something freely given, nor acquired overnight. He would have to rely on the few months that he had beneath his belt. It would have to be enough.

Even though they’d established the bedroom as a work-free area, Dorian still coached Theo on what to expect the following day. “Eremond is loud, grandiose, and overblown,” he said as Theo stared at the ceiling, his stomach writhing. “He loves the sound of his own voice. If you get him talking he may go on all day.”

“So how do I stop him from talking?” Theo asked.

“Short of a silencing spell?” Dorian asked with a laugh. “Do your own talking. Say what you want from him, and don’t back down.”

Theo rolled over and draped an arm over Dorian’s torso. “I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m not sure what I’d do otherwise,” he said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Suffer?” Dorian asked. He held Theo close and kissed him deeply. He twined his fingers in Theo’s dark hair and stared into his eyes; they were so close Theo could see the tiny gold flecks in the gray. “In all seriousness, you have what it takes within you. You need to shed the insecurities of your past.”

“You make it sound simple,” Theo said, closing his eyes.

Dorian stroked his hair. “I know from experience that it is far from simple. But it’s something you must do. I can only do so much to help you, Theo,” he said.

“I know,” Theo told him. He nestled himself against Dorian’s chest and focused on his warmth, the beat of his heart, the sound of this breathing. He didn’t know if Dorian was able to cast a sleeping spell, but something about being so close to him, and feeling so safe was more powerful than his anxieties and he drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	17. Meeting the Magister

_Chapter 17: Meeting the Magister_

 

The sun was approaching its apex in the sky when a lookout sounded the horn: Livius Eremond was approaching, at the head of a column of Grey Wardens. Theo wanted to see, to have a look at what he was up against; but he remained sitting on his shaded dais, which had been set up to approximate his judgment seat at Skyhold. Cassandra and Cullen stood on either side of him, and The Iron Bull was busily stalking the battlements and gathering information to send to them.

“He wants to bring the Wardens in,” one of the runners breathlessly told Theo.

“The answer is no,” Theo said decisively without even looking to Cassandra or Cullen for guidance. Having a column of possessed Grey Wardens outside the keep was bad enough; he didn’t dare allow them in. The runner headed off, and returned a few moments later, this time asking if Eremond could at least bring up Warden Commander Clarel with him. Theo glanced at Stroud, who stood nearby. “What can you tell me about Clarel?” he asked.

“She is the Warden Commander of Orlais,” he said. “She is a mage. When she allied with the Venatori and began researching the binding rituals, I tried to have her see reason, but by then she was blinded by fear. She would have had me killed had I not run,” he said grimly.

Theo nodded and then looked to Cullen and Cassandra. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think it’s a good thing Cassandra is here,” Cullen said grimly. “My templar abilities are waning more quickly each day, but her Seeker abilities are still strong.”

“Let the Warden Commander come,” Cassandra agreed. “If she attempts anything I will simply set the lyrium within her ablaze.” She chuckled at Theo’s horrified expression. “I forget that you still have much to learn, Inquisitor,” she said, patting the hilt of her sword. “Ideally, it will not come to that; perhaps she will see reason beyond the madness this Venatori has instilled in her.”

Theo nodded. “I will allow it. Only the Enchanter and the Warden Commander,” he said, and the runner took off again. “Holy shit, I am not ready for this,” he murmured.

“Stop it,” Cassandra snapped. She lightly slapped the back of Theo’s head. “You _are_ ready for this, and you _will_ show it. You cannot show weakness to this man. He will prey upon it,” she said. “Do not rise when he approaches.”

Theo rubbed his head. “Why didn’t you coach me like this yesterday?” he grumbled.

“Because you’d over think it,” she told him. “Now you have to _do_ it.”

A scout, who’d taken on the role of court crier, came forward before Theo could even process what any of it meant. “Presenting Enchanter Livius Eremond of Vyrantium, and Clarel, Warden Commander of Orlais,” he said, and Theo remained seated, his heart thudding hard in his chest as the two appeared.

Eremond had strong facial lines and haughty, glaring dark eyes. He sneered, barely concealing his contempt for the proceedings, and Theo had to fight to remain sitting straight and expressionless. Next to Eremond, Clarel tried to look commanding but she just looked nervous. Her hand kept clenching about her staff and her eyes flicked about warily.

“You stand in the presence of His Worship, Lord Inquisitor Theodane Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste,” the crier announced. “Touched by the Fade, marked by Holy Andraste herself.”

Eremond’s snort of derision did nothing to ease Theo’s embarrassment. But Cullen and Cassandra were there for him; Dorian was somewhere in the keep, watching, as he’d promised; and Bull had set up a perimeter. And they all believed in him. He took a deep breath. “Welcome, Enchanter Eremond,” he said.

Eremond did laugh then. “Please. Just get to the point of these ridiculous proceedings.”

It was like Theo’s father all over again. Any time Theo tried to tell Bann Trevelyan anything the man just glared at him as if he were wasting precious time, leaving Theo to slink off, dejected and embarrassed.

But Eremond was not his father. And now he had a support network that was beginning to stretch across Thedas. “If you think it’s ridiculous, then why did you even agree to meet?” Theo asked. Cassandra inhaled sharply next to him. He was thankful for Eremond’s presence, if just to keep her from slapping the back of his head again.

“To see this _Herald of Andraste_ with my own eyes, of course,” Eremond said. “And I see he’s no more than a boy playing games he does not understand.”

“I see,” Theo said, keeping level-headed. No sense getting angry, when what Eremond said was true. _Don’t let him talk too much,_ Dorian had said. There was only one thing Theo knew would render Eremond speechless. “I suppose you also wanted to see this.” He held up his left hand, and with a little focus, his palm glowed a brighter green. Eremond’s dark eyes widened, and even Clarel looked a bit more interested. “Funny how one little mark can tip the scales, isn’t it.”

Eremond was tense, like a hunting hound on a lead, just waiting to be let loose so he could spring forward. “What do you want, Inquisitor?” he asked, eyes still locked on Theo’s palm.

“Release the Grey Wardens,” Theo said.

“Inquisitor. What leads you to believe that the Wardens _want_ to be released?” Clarel asked. She cocked her head to the side. Theo was speechless, and a sad smile touched Clarel’s features. “The Enchanter offered us a way to stop the Blights forever. You are not a Warden, so you would not understand what that means.”

“By raising a demon army built on the blood of our brethren,” Stroud said, when Theo still had no idea what to say.

“In peace, vigilance,” she snapped. “We are being vigilant by taking this opportunity to prevent future Blights! In war, victory; we will be victorious over the Blight once and for all. And in death, sacrifice. You took the same vows, Stroud,” she said, near tears. “Yes. I have watched our brethren fall. I have even held the sacrificial knife. And nearly every man or woman to die for this cause believes their death will hold meaning and serve a higher purpose.”

Always the higher purpose. Theo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; he felt a headache coming on. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the stress. “This enchanter serves Corypheus,” he said at last. “One of those responsible for starting the Blights and necessitating the Grey Wardens in the first place. And you would serve him?”

Clarel shifted, looking up, down, anywhere but at Theo or Eremond. “The past cannot be changed,” she said at last. “But the future is unwritten.”

“See? The Warden Commander has made her decision,” Eremond said. “I knew it was foolish to come. You would be wise to abandon this course, Inquisitor,” Eremond said. “The Elder One _will_ rule all. He _will_ reward his faithful, and those who oppose him? You’ll hope you’re dead first.” He turned his back on Theo and stormed away, his hard-heeled boots clicking on the stones. “ _Clarel!”_ he bellowed, imperious voice echoing in the keep. Theo winced; so did Clarel, who shook her head and followed, shoulders slumped.

Theo waited in silence until eventually Bull came down from the ramparts. “Asshole’s gone,” he said. “Want me to follow him and pick him off? No one ever suspects the Qunari,” he added with a grin and a dangerous look in his single eye.

Theo shook his head. Now that the Magister was gone he slumped in his seat, his bones turned to jelly. Cassandra said something in Nevarran, likely a swear, and kicked a nearby crate. Cullen paced. “The worst part is Clarel truly believes this is the right thing,” Theo said at last. “Killing her own men, men who trust her…” He glanced at Cullen and Bull. “If I ever start asking you to perform or become ritualistic sacrifices, do me a favor and kill me?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“What do we do now, Boss?” Bull asked.

“Now, I go lie down and pretend this was a dream,” Theo said. “And when I wake up and realize it wasn’t, we start planning our next move.”

They dispatched, Cullen to the training yard in spite of his evident weariness; and Cassandra to the rookery to send Leliana and Josephine an update. Bull went back up to the ramparts as he’d been doing the last few days, hoping to spy the dragon again. Theo rubbed his throbbing temples and made his way through the bustling courtyard.

“My Lord Inquisitor?”

Theo blinked away the tension and put on the best pleasant smile he could muster. “Yes?” he asked, looking around and catching sight of a thin, balding man who wore a shiny gold mask even in the heat of the afternoon sun.

“Forgive me, but my name is Ponchard. I was told to come here by a Lady Leliana. I was hoping I might be dismissed if I’m of no service to you?” he asked with a half bow and a ridiculous wave of his hands.

Ponchard. Theo rifled through his memories. “Oh, Ponchard,” he said at last. “Yes. I’m sorry for the confusion. It seems that a close friend of mine had need of your service,” he said.

The man probably paled beneath his mask. “The Magister. Yes, we spoke, but he could not give me what I desired, so our business accord dissolved.”

“His amulet,” Theo said, and Ponchard looked away. “You’re not even Tevinter. Why would you want to keep it?”

“It is a symbol of a well-connected house in Tevinter,” Ponchard explained. “It allows me to do business in the house’s name. Without it, I’m just another Orlesian merchant. Without it, I have no chance of being admitted to the League de Celestine,” the little man said, wringing his hands. “I told Monsieur Pavus as much, but he lacks the influence to get me in. Especially without his birthright. We are at an impasse.”

Theo stared at him. “That’s all you want. To get into this league.”

“Not just any league! The League de Celestine is—“

Theo held up his hand. “What do you need? Just a letter from me, endorsing you?”

Ponchard bowed again. “That would be enough, but even more than I could ever hope for…”

Theo shook his head. “Just stop. If that’s all you need, I’ll do it. So long as you give me Monsieur Pavus’s amulet.” Ponchard stared at Theo for a long moment, but Theo had just faced down an arrogant Magister and the Orlesian Warden Commander, both of whom could have easily vaporized him. Ponchard had nothing. “I’ll write it now. I’ll send a raven to Val Royeaux. You can come to the rookery and watch.”

“I would appreciate that very much, Your Worship,” Ponchard said. “Though you must understand that I cannot part with something so valuable until I have something of equal or greater value guaranteed in return. The League may say no, in which case the amulet is still of value to me. Were I to give it to you… I’d be lost. I must protect my business interests, you see,” he said.

Theo sighed and resisted the urge to kick Ponchard in the shins. “I understand,” he said, and he really did; he was just so tired of all this wheedling and deal-making. “I’ll still write that letter now.”

So even though all Theo wanted to do was collapse in bed and sleep until all of this was over, he still trudged up to the makeshift rookery with Ponchard in tow. Cassandra was still writing and gave him a look, eyebrow raised, but Theo just shook his head. He wrote his missive with Ponchard looking over his shoulder, making certain it said what was necessary. Theo had the raven keeper choose the best bird, and rolled the message about its leg, and then they both watched as it flew east.

“I cannot thank you enough for this, Inquisitor,” Ponchard said, about to bow again, but Theo stopped him. “I’m certain the League will accept your recommendation,” he said.

“I hope so. I’d like for Master Pavus to have his amulet as quickly as possible,” Theo said, but Ponchard merely smiled and headed out of the rookery without another word.

“You are not a business man,” Cassandra observed, and Theo winced. But she was smiling. “I prefer to let my blade to my talking; you’ll get no judgment from me,” she said with a laugh.

Theo chuckled as well. “So long as you don’t let your blade do the talking with me,” he teased and headed to his room, where he collapsed on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

When he woke it was dusk and Dorian was sitting next to him, reading. “Good morning,” Dorian teased, setting the book on his lap. “You’re still alive and still human, so it seems the meeting with Eremond didn’t go terribly?”

Theo blinked the sleepy grit from his eyes and sat up, yawning. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you were sound asleep, and clearly you needed the rest,” Dorian said, resting a hand on Theo’s back. “So?”

Theo smiled and shook his head. “Bedroom. Work-free area,” he said, climbing out of bed. He headed to the ewer and splashed some cool water on his face and ran his hand through his hair. Dorian joined him, handing him a comb and watching while Theo tried to make his hair behave. “Not all of us are as blessed with perfect hair, you know,” Theo said, at last setting down the comb.

“It is a burden, that I’ll admit,” Dorian said with a sigh that made Theo laugh.

They headed out to the mess hall. Even in the few days they’d been here the Inqusition scouts and suppliers had been busy, and coupled with the supplies that had been there with the Venatori occupation, the keep was up and running smoothly as if it had been an Inquisition outpost for months.

Theo got a plate of food, and though he didn’t think he was hungry, as soon as he sat down he was devouring everything. “Easy, Boss,” Bull said, joining them. “Eating like that in this heat? You’ll be hugging a bucket all night.”

“I’m sure you have experience?” Dorian asked with a raised eyebrow, and Bull just laughed.

Cullen sat down a few minutes later, shaking his head when Theo asked if he’d eaten. “I’m having trouble with my appetite,” he said. “A side effect of… things,” he said, and Theo nodded while Bull and Dorian pretended not to be listening. “I’ll keep some bread with me in the event that I do get hungry,” he added.

Theo and Cullen related the meeting with Eremond to Dorian and Bull, and Cassandra joined them. “Clarel is a coward,” she snapped, stabbing into her food with a fork.

“She’s desperate,” Cullen said. “I was in Ferelden during the fifth Blight. It was awful,” he said with a shudder. “If I was in her position, I can’t deny that I would not seriously consider an offer to stop them for good.”

“She’s scared; we all are,” Stroud said, sitting down. “But she is letting her fear dictate her actions. That is not the Grey Warden way.”

Cassandra made a disgusted sound and turned her attention to eating, rather than arguing.

“We can’t let this continue, obviously,” Theo said, pushing around the bits left on his plate. “I know Clarel thinks she’s right, but… nothing good can come of a demon army, even with the best intentions.”

“Demon army? _Vishante kaffas,_ I knew Eremond was arrogant, but this… it’s too much,” Dorian said, taking a swig of wine.

They were all silent for a bit while the noise of the mess hall went on around them. “Cullen,” Theo asked at last. “How long until the rest of the army arrives?”

“Maybe a week? What are you thinking?” the Commander asked.

“I offered to talk with Eremond; he didn’t want to listen, let alone talk. Time to say something in a language he can’t ignore.”

“You’re suggesting…”

“We lay siege to Adamant Fortress,” Theo said grimly. “I won’t let him continue taking advantage of the Wardens this way.” He looked around the table at his closest friends and advisors. “Are you with me?” he asked softly.

“Fuck yeah,” Bull said, slamming his big fist on the table and shaking everybody’s dishes.

“I serve the Inquisition and the Inquisitor,” Cassandra said with a nod.

“I’m with you, Inquisitor,” Cullen added in a soft voice, though Theo could see the pained look on his face at the thought of how many soldiers they would likely lose in this.

Dorian stared at Theo, his gray eyes filled with worry. “I cannot say if this is good counsel or ill,” he said at last. “But for good _or_ ill, I stand with you. Always,” he said in a tone that said far more than even his words would.

Theo nodded. “Thank you. All of you. I can’t do any of this without you.” Even though he’d taken a long rest that afternoon, he was still tired and trembled at the thought of what he was about to do. “I suggest we all rest well tonight. At sunup we begin preparations for battle.”


	18. Battlefields

_Chapter 18: Battlefields_

 

The days were long but kept getting longer; it seemed that the more they accomplished, the more there was to do. Theo wondered how Cullen was keeping everything straight in his mind as he barked orders and made lists. Theo had never gone to war before and was completely out of his element, though he tried. Mostly he just stayed out of the way and waited for Cullen’s almost hourly reports while Dorian hovered nearby, worried.

“I’m not going to disappear on you,” Theo finally said, glancing up from fletching a batch of arrows. Cullen assured him that the Inquisition supply was ample, but Theo found that making arrows kept him from going crazy during the hours of preparation he didn’t understand. He set his work aside and held out a hand to Dorian.

Dorian took Theo’s hand and sat down next to him. “Any fighting we’ve done has been nothing more than skirmishes,” he said. “But laying siege to Adamant? That is an act of war.”

Theo sighed. “I know,” he said.

Dorian squeezed his hand. “Are you afraid?”

“Terrified.” Theo felt the warmth of Dorian’s hand around his and drew strength from his touch. “But I don’t see any other way,” he said at last. “So long as the Wardens follow Eremond and are enslaved to Corypheus, Thedas is in danger. We break their hold on the Wardens, we deal a blow that makes an impact.”

Dorian stared at Theo with a critical eye and a slight smile. Theo squirmed a bit, but Dorian held fast to his hand. “You speak as one with experience,” he said. He held up his hand to stop Theo’s protests. “I know you will say you have none; but I can honestly say that the ‘you’ of a few months back would never have the stones to take this course of action. I’m proud of you,” he said.

Theo blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Absolutely. So long as you don’t pull any more idiot moves and get yourself hurt again, I will continue to feel so,” Dorian said with a grin and another squeeze of his hand.

“Lord Inquisitor?” a messenger asked, approaching. The young woman bowed low. “Message for you.”

“Inquisition business calls,” Theo said with a smile, giving Dorian a peck on his cheek before rising and heading to the courtyard, unrolling the message as he went. His insides were buzzing like a hive of bees. The message was from the League de Celestine. Dorian would have his amulet back by this evening. Theo could hardly wait to see the expression on his face.

In the courtyard merchants were busily inventorying their wares. Tension was thick in the air; the low murmur of the merchant court sounded louder than usual. Everyone, it seemed, was apprehensive about the planned siege. Theo looked around until he found Monsieur Ponchard fanning himself in the shade. He still wore his mask; all his sweating had probably glued it to his face. “Your Worship!” the little man said, leaping up and bowing. “I hope you’ve brought good news?”

“Better news for you than for anyone else around here,” Theo said pointedly, glancing around at the worried merchants and soldiers. “The League accepted your membership.”

Ponchard looked tense enough to explode, but all Theo wanted was Dorian’s amulet. He needed good news. Suddenly Ponchard had grabbed Theo’s right hand and was plastering it with a kiss. “My lord Inquisitor, you have no idea what this means! I can’t thank you enough!”

Theo wrenched his arm away and tried to surreptitiously wipe it on his breeches. “Um… just giving me the Tevinter amulet should be thanks enough,” he said. “And if you want to leave you may. Though if you care to stay I’m sure the Inquisition could use well-connected merchants,” he found himself saying through a bright, fake smile while he inwardly cursed himself.

In the end Ponchard did elect to leave, with many a ridiculous bow and attempts to plaster Theo’s hand with kisses of gratitude. Theo finally waved him off and headed for his room.

Another report from Cullen awaited him. The main army force was nearing; maybe another day out. They’d be tired, but the Inquisition could waste no time in dealing with Eremond. Yet one more concern Theo added to his list. But he clutched at the small velvet bag holding Dorian’s amulet and smiled. He was determined to have some happiness in all of this.

* * *

 

“You’re up to something.” Dorian stood in front of the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow quirked up. “And don’t give me that innocent look; you’re a terrible liar,” he said, though he was smiling.

Theo quelled the fluttering feeling in his insides. “I… well, I have something for you,” he said, and handed the small package to Dorian. He watched with anticipation as Dorian unwrapped the velvet pouch. His jaw tightened and his lips pressed into a bloodless line as he stared into his hands. “Is it the wrong one?” Theo asked after a long silence.

“No. It’s mine,” Dorian said softly. “But… I didn’t want this,” he said with a sigh.

“You didn’t want your birthright back?” Theo asked, confused. His stomach tightened and he felt a chill tingle through him.

“I didn’t want you to get it for me,” Dorian said. His voice was tense, as if trying to keep from snapping. “It’s my amulet. It was my youthful stupidity that made me part with it to begin with, so it was my responsibility to get it back. And now I’m indebted to you, which is not what I wanted.” He turned away and ran a hand over his hair.

“You’re not indebted to me,” Theo said, trying to stay calm and reasonable. “I did it as a gift. Because of how I feel.”

Dorian sighed. “And that’s the problem,” he said softly.

“This… is a problem?” Theo asked as the icy hand of his nerves clenched his insides more tightly. He took a tentative step closer to Dorian, overcoming his instinct to shy away.

“When Ponchard gets to Val Royeaux and starts bragging about how he helped the Inquisitor, and when it gets around that you got my amulet back when I could not do it for myself? It makes me look like an opportunist. Like I’m using you,” Dorian said. He stared at the pile of velvet in his hands.

“You’re not,” Theo said. “Dorian, look at me,” he said softly, and Dorian glanced up through his thick lashes. “I will swear before the Maker himself that I did this for you because I wanted to. Because I…” He trailed off and it was his turn to look down.

Dorian sat on the bed and pulled Theo down with him. “There’s always a price in Tevinter,” he said. “Always a string attached; a condition to be met. People don’t do things for others just because,” he said. “I know I’m an ass, but I’m trying.” He kissed Theo; his lips were warm and soft and the feel of it made Theo tremble.

“You may be an ass, but you’re my ass,” Theo said, lying back against the pillows and smiling up at Dorian. A pang shot through his chest when he recalled Cullen’s message. They’d be ready to march on Adamant as soon as the day after tomorrow. Of course he worried about the imminent loss of life and damage to the Inquisition’s forces. Of course he knew he could die, causing the Inquisition to fail only after its first major mission.

Of course he stood to lose Dorian.

It was a curious balance of feelings, and it was too hard for Theo to even think about prioritizing. He knew how he _should_ feel, but it didn’t line up with how he _did_ feel.

Dorian reclined beside him and Theo curled up against him. Dorian trailed his fingers over Theo’s collarbone. He shivered and said nothing, just closed his eyes and enjoyed Dorian’s touch. It was like each fingertip had a tiny burst of electrical magic in it that set all of his hairs on end. The light in the room was fading, and they were probably beginning to serve dinner in the mess hall; Cullen would want to brief him and Cassandra would have messages from Skyhold. He sighed.

“Something wrong?” Dorian asked.

“Everything,” Theo said, unconsciously fiddling with the buckles and ties of Dorian’s shirt.

“And you think sleeping with me will change that?”

Dorian’s suggestion sent a rush through Theo and everything within him stirred with excitement even in the midst of all his concerns. “Not as a distraction,” Theo insisted. “I just… you want to?” He asked, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. There was no way Dorian could miss the tension in the rest of him, though.

Dorian laughed softly and rolled over so he was facing Theo. “One or both of us could die in less than two days. Either way I’d regret not properly bedding you,” Dorian said in a low voice. His deft fingers slowly unlaced the front of Theo’s shirt, and the brush of his electric touch sent stirrings into Theo’s groin that were likely to drive him mad. “The answer is yes, I want to.”

Theo pulled his shirt off and then rolled onto his back, pulling Dorian down on top of him and kissing him long and deep. Dorian’s shirt was in the way; Dorian struggled to pull it off while Theo’s mouth explored his lips, his neck, his chest. Theo arched his back and groaned when Dorian’s hand found his member, hard and straining, and began to caress through his breeches.

Theo didn’t know how they both ended up naked and twisted in the bed sheets, all hot hands and mouths and no words in the gathering dark. Theo pressed against Dorian’s body, as if he couldn’t get close enough. Dorian trailed kisses down his neck, one arm wrapped around Theo’s torso and his other hand caressing Theo’s thigh. Theo ran his fingers through Dorian’s silky dark hair and ran a hand over Dorian’s back, down over his hip, and rested on his buttock, delighting in the feeling of warm skin beneath his palm.

He barely felt the chill of the night creeping in; Dorian radiated heat, as if passion released his magic, making him unable to keep control over his mana. Of course that was ridiculous; Dorian was nothing if not controlled. Most would worry about being so vulnerable with a mage, but Theo realized that he trusted Dorian completely. In fact, he rarely ever thought about Dorian as being a mage. He was just Dorian.

And Theo loved him for it.

Dorian left a trail of kisses down Theo’s chest and stomach. He ran his hands down Theo’s sides and over his hips and thighs and Theo closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Then his eyes snapped open and he arched his back as new sensations overwhelmed him. He gasped; Dorian could do more with his mouth than just kiss, and Theo felt himself getting dangerously close to the edge.

Dorian paused in his ministrations and looked up at Theo, smiling. “I take it you’re pleased?” he teased, lightly dragging his fingers over the inside of Theo’s thigh.

“Maker’s breath, Dorian,” Theo breathed, clutching at the sheets and trying to stop the shuddering sensation he felt all over. “Why did you stop?”

Dorian chuckled. “To allow you time to relax. I want you to enjoy this.”

“I’m enjoying it,” Theo assured him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing away the tension in his limbs and trying to relax the knot in his torso, just below his stomach.

“You like playing with fire,” Dorian murmured. His eyes were narrowed and mischievous and his hand was back to stroking Theo’s cock with infuriatingly casual caresses. “Are you ready to do more than play?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Theo breathed, reaching a hand for Dorian. The mage took it, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve… never done anything like this, but…”

Dorian kissed Theo’s hand. “I promise to be gentle. Besides, you have a battle to fight. I could hardly explain to Commander Cullen why you’re unable to move,” he said with a grin, and Theo flushed deeply, his face burning all the way up to his ears. “Besides,” Dorian said, releasing Theo’s hand and momentarily getting up to get something. “Assuming we both survive there will be time for all of that later.”

The warmth that flooded Theo was different from the embarrassment he’d had a moment ago. _Later_. Dorian meant to continue this, and the thought made the impending battle at Adamant easier to bear.

Dorian returned, holding a small bottle. He nudged Theo, who rolled over onto his stomach. Some nights Dorian would rub his sore neck and shoulders, which is what he expected. But Dorian’s hand ran over Theo’s backside and he tensed momentarily. But this was Dorian. He trusted him. Loved him, even. If they survived Adamant, he might actually even tell him that.

Dorian was gentle as his oiled fingers worked at Theo in ways he’d never imagined. His cock stirred beneath him and he was clutching the sheets so hard his fingers were getting sore. He squirmed and groaned and his breathing came in hitching gasps. Then he was on his knees, and Dorian’s arms were around him and his breath was hot on Theo’s back. Theo braced himself on one hand and clutched Dorian’s hand to his chest as his heart pounded.

There was nothing else in those moments. Dorian was in him and around him and was everything.

* * *

 

 When Theo opened his eyes a thin sliver of moon provided a touch of light: just enough for him to see Dorian’s profile. His hair was still a mess, and he was staring into the darkness. He had an arm wrapped around Theo, holding him close, and had pulled the sheets over them. Theo felt the night chill and snuggled as close to Dorian as he could get.

 Dorian chuckled quietly. “Did I tire you out that badly?” he asked.

 “I’m sorry,” Theo said sheepishly.

 “Don’t be,” Dorian told him, squeezing his arm gently. “I found it rather endearing. It’s not often I have the opportunity to give someone else such pleasure that they fall asleep in my arms. Especially someone so dear to me.” His voice was soft, his touch softer. “I want to do this so much more often,” he confessed.

Theo rarely heard Dorian so on the edge of breaking, and the tone was worrisome. He leaned up on one elbow. “We can,” he said simply, trying to meet Dorian’s gaze in the dark. He reached out and ran his hand over Dorian’s cheek.

Dorian sighed and held Theo’s hand to him. “I like you, which you likely know, but more than is probably wise.” His breath shuddered a bit. “At home sex between men is only about pleasure; one would be a fool to hope that it could be anything more.”

“This _is_ more, Dorian. And you’re not back in Tevinter,” Theo said firmly. “Besides, if you’re a fool, then so am I for falling for you.”

Dorian sighed, but Theo felt him smile. “Fools together, then,” he said at last.

Theo settled back and this time it was his turn to hold Dorian. He was exhausted and spent, but happier, more content, than he’d ever felt, even though he knew he could die within the next two days.

* * *

  

 The sky was thick with smoke already when Theo rode to the front lines before the gates of Adamant Fortress. Trebuchets fired balls of fire at the ramparts, and a team of brontos was hauling forth a massive battering ram. Theo’s heart stuck in his throat as the smell of burning oil and the sounds of battle assaulted his senses. Sweat trickled down his face, and his armor felt too tight, too hot.

“Adamant is an old fortress,” Cullen told him when he approached. “It won’t stand long against our modern weaponry,” he said, confident, as if the rush of battle overcame how tired he probably was.

Theo looked up at the smoky sky and squinted. “We’re going in there,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Cullen said. “The Inquisition stands behind you, Theodane.”

Theo took a deep breath. “Break it down,” he ordered. “There’s no going back. We’re putting a stumbling block in Corypheus’s path today,” he said. He pulled back and let through several burly soldiers who manned the battering ram. They began heaving and the ram crunched into the thick, heavy doors.

Dorian approached and rested a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “Whatever happens…” he began, but didn’t finish—either he could not, or he simply would not. Neither of them spoke; they stood watching the huge ram crunch into the doors again and again while there were shouts and screams around them. A faint violet glow emanated from the head of Dorian’s staff: with so much death about, his necromancy skills were heightened.

_I am the Inquisitor,_ Theo told himself as the doors splintered beneath the ram. The men pulled back for one more merciless thrust. _I will end this,_ he thought, even as his stomach twisted inside of him.

At last the doors gave way and Theo strode toward them, followed by Cullen, Dorian, Cassandra, Iron Bull, and a regiment of soldiers. Bull laughed, loud and rumbling, and began swinging his maul at the Grey Warden resistance that tried to intercept Theo’s party. Those that avoided Bull’s strikes fell to Dorian’s spells.

Stroud and Hawke brought up the rear and joined them in the main bailey. Hawke was grim-faced and the ground seemed to shake ever so slightly whenever she took a step. It was curious and disconcerting. Stroud’s face was haggard, his eyes tired and sorrowful as he surveyed the bodies of dead Wardens littering the ground. “We must stop this,” he said and his voice cracked. “This is not what we were meant to become.”

Theo shook his head. “We’re going to put an end to it today. The Wardens deserve more than Corypheus’s influence,” he said. He’d only been a teenager when the Blight happened in Ferelden, but had heard the stories of the Grey Wardens and how the Warden King and his queen had united a country and ended the Blight. That’s what Grey Wardens did. They paid the price so others wouldn’t have to.

Under the influence of Eremond and his master, they’d become part of the price the rest of Thedas was paying.

The Inquisition soldiers fanned out and blazed a trail for Theo and his companions. “Orders?” Cullen asked.

“Find Eremond. If we have to kill him, we kill him,” Theo said. “And then we find Clarel and slap some sense into her. After that, I wouldn’t mind going back to Skyhold and sleeping for a few days,” he added with a grin.

“You know it won’t be that easy,” Cullen said with his own smile.

“I’m trying to be an optimist,” Theo said with a shrug. It would be anything _but_ easy. He fully anticipated dying today. But he kept smiling, keeping his face a stony mask and his steps sure as he followed the forward guard. They met more resistance the higher up they traversed, which, while irritating, was a good sign as far as Theo was concerned. He kept nocking arrows and firing at resistance; he had to block out their blue and grey uniforms and tell himself that as of now, they were the enemy.

The forward guard paused before a gate. “Cullen. Go get your men on the ramparts,” Theo said in a low voice. “Cassandra, I’m going to need you with me,” he said, and she nodded, her jaw set and her expression dangerous. “If Eremond so much as looks like he might fire a spell, incinerate him.” He half expected Dorian to protest; after all Eremond was his countryman, even if he disliked the man. But Dorian remained silent.

“Bull,” Theo continued. “We’ll probably confront some demons. If you want to go with Cullen I respect that,” he said.

Bull huffed and hefted his maul over his shoulder. “And miss beating in Eremond’s ass? Please, Boss. I’m coming along.”

Theo smiled, Bull’s confidence giving him strength. He felt he was shaking from all the nervous excitement. “Hawke…”

“I do Force magic,” she said. “You may want me around. I may want to be around. You probably couldn’t keep me away if you wanted, to be honest,” she said, but with no hint of levity in her voice, so Theo just nodded his thanks.

“Stroud, Dorian… with me,” Theo said.

Before he could open the gate Cassandra rested a hand on his forearm. She met his eyes and her gaze was steely. “Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls,” she said. “From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity. May Andraste bless our steps and the Maker hold us in his arms,” she finished.

Theo nodded. “Thank you,” he said, clasping her shoulder. Even though he was the Herald of Andraste, supposedly, he wasn’t very religious; but he was about to look death in the face. He’d accept Cassandra’s prayer and any other help he could get.

He took a deep breath. He nocked an arrow.

He went in.


	19. Sacrifice

_Chapter 19: Sacrifice_

The courtyard was flooded with bright green light and Theo’s hand throbbed with pain. He clutched his bow tight, trying to force the pain into the bow; he tried to keep his eyes focused and his mind sharp, but it was far from easy when the world spun around him and the pull of the Fade buzzed through his veins.

Around the fuzzy green glow he saw Eremond and Clarel standing before a crowd of Grey Wardens. A Warden knelt before Clarel’s feet, his face grim but determined. “Bring it through, Clarel,” Eremond shouted, his eyes wild and his smile wide. “Bring through a demon worthy of your power!”

“No!” Hawke shouted, pushing forward and slamming the butt of her staff onto the stone slabs. The ground shuddered and stones cracked. The wave of her force magic rippled outward and toppled the crowd. She raised her arms and several Wardens levitated high above the ground, and when she dropped her hands, they slammed back against the stone.

Clarel hesitated and the hand holding the sacrificial knife trembled. “Don’t do it, Clarel!” Stroud shouted, dashing toward her, but in one swift movement she drew the blade across the other Warden’s throat. Blood sprayed the stones and Eremond laughed when the other man fell over, dead.

“The Wardens deserve better,” Stroud shouted. “Your brothers and sisters, Clarel. We followed you. We would follow you still, just turn from this madness!”

“Don’t listen, Clarel,” Eremond hissed. “Just think, no more Blights, ever. There will never be a need for your sacrifice ever again. _Bring it through,”_ he ordered.

But Clarel hesitated, her eyes flicking from Stroud to Eremond and to Theo. Her gaze settled on the massive rift that had been opened in the courtyard. Theo did not want to think what could come through something so large and sinister. He dropped his bow and held up his left hand, focusing on pulling the energy of the rift toward his mark.

Eremond yelled something incomprehensible, but then he was screaming as Cassandra brought him down with her Seeker capacities. Hawke brought down a huge pillar, crushing the dead bodies and killing those unable to move quickly enough. Dorian called on the spirits of the Fade, his staff glowing deep violet. Out of the corner of his eye Theo saw the ghostly forms of the dead bodies rise and begin to defend against those Wardens still controlled by Eremond and Corypheus. Those that made it through the spirit guards, Iron Bull cut down, everyone working to give Theo the time and space he needed to close the rift.

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, focusing on the energy of the Fade pulsing out of the rift. The mark on his hand pulsed with its connection to the Fade, and he kept his mind and energy only on that. He had to trust everyone else would defend him.

The sky began to roar around them, and there was a gust of wind so strong that it made Theo stumble and lose his concentration. The connection to the Fade faltered, and he had just enough time to dive out of the way as a dragon swooped low over him. The claws narrowly missed him as it landed.

Theo dodged the massive tail and grabbed his bow, but wasn’t fast enough getting away. The dragon’s spiked tail hit him hard in the back, sending him flying across the stone courtyard. He landed hard and rolled to minimize damage, but it _hurt_. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, and was dimly aware that Dorian and Bull were yelling for him.

The dragon took off again; the rift was still open, though it had shrunk and the feelings of rage and malice pouring from it had waned. “Where… where’s Clarel?” he gasped, struggling to his feet.

“She took off that way,” Cassandra said. She stood over Eremond, her studded boot pressed against his chest. He stared at the sky, dazed, and occasional shudders coursed through him as her Seeker magic worked within him. “Go. We will have him arrested and brought back to Skyhold.”

Theo nodded. He hadn’t seen which way Clarel went, but he followed Bull and Hawke, moving as quickly as he could.

“You could have gotten another bow, you know,” Dorian said.

“I like this one,” Theo said, but he knew Dorian was right. He’d acted without thinking and could have been killed if the dragon had turned around faster and decided to incinerate him. He recognized it as the same dragon that had attacked Haven, and wondered if Corypheus would show himself.

Dorian didn’t seem to think so though. “He was once a very powerful Magister, a high priest of Dumat,” he said. “He would have had slaves, servants, and acolytes to do everything for him. Typical Tevinter and all,” he said. “Old habits die hard.” He paused and gave Theo a long look. “Do you honestly think you’re ready to face him here and now?” he asked.

Fire crackled and smoke blotted the stars from the darkening sky. The air was still filled with screams of death and horror as the Inquisition fought to hold the fortress. “No,” Theo admitted. His back ached and he was still short of breath. “Especially not if he keeps that dragon nearby.”

“Then find Clarel and stop the madness. There will be time to question Eremond later,” Dorian said. “Focus on the present.”

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Theo told him, completely serious. Dorian kept him grounded and focused.

“Just remember that no matter what happens, I’m not saying goodbye,” Dorian told him, and they kept moving forward.

They found Clarel fighting the dragon—and losing—at the end of a long causeway that straddled a narrow chasm between towers. She fired off a flurry of lightning bolts that stunned the dragon, but enraged it. Her magic was fading, and the dragon knew it. “In peace, vigilance!” she shouted, letting loose another bolt. “In war, victory!” She fired again and fell to her knees, utterly spent. “In death…”

The dragon arched its spined neck and dove its great head downward, jaws open.

Sacrifice.

Stroud cried out. Hawke slammed her staff on the ground once more and the causeway began to rumble beneath their feet. “Run!” she shouted as the first stones gave way to the chasm below.

Theo stared at the dragon, its jaws dripping blood in the firelight, and its deep black eyes locked on him. He felt an overpowering anger welling up inside of him for the loss that Corypheus and the dragon had forced the Inquisition to endure at Haven. He nocked an arrow and took aim, but Bull and Dorian both grabbed his arms and pulled him away.

Theo stumbled and tried to regain his footing. Behind them the dragon screamed and its huge leathery wings beat the night sky. The roar of the collapsing bridge was thunderous and Theo had to fight the urge to look behind him, instead focusing on the stones in front of him.

Then the bridge fell away from under his feet and he was floating for one moment, surrounded by darkness and smoke and debris, like drowning in the air. He grabbed for something, anything, but the edge of the bridge was gone and he was falling. Someone was shouting his name, or he was yelling, he couldn’t tell. The chasm was a dark maw gaping wide to devour him.

He did the only thing he could think of and reached out to touch the darkness with his marked hand.

* * *

He was dizzy and thought that this was what death felt like. At least, maybe it did. Theo didn’t know how he could be alive after falling into the abyss, and moreover, how the Bull, Dorian, Hawke, and Stroud could have followed him. Yes, they were definitely dead.

Of all of them, Dorian had the calmest reaction. “The first time I entered the Fade it was a lovely golden castle. I met a desire demon and we ate peeled grapes while he tried to seduce me,” he said casually, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

“We’re… in the Fade?” Theo asked, looking around. The sky was the same sickly green of the breach. Puddles dotted the landscape, which was jagged and seemed to shift in slight, imperceptible ways when he wasn’t looking directly at anything.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ” Bull slammed his huge fist into a rocky outcropping nearby. It only shuddered as if made from clay. “I did _not_ sign on for this shit, Boss,” he told Theo, his one eye wide and rolling around as he tried to see everything. But it was impossible; even with two functioning eyes Theo couldn’t make sense of what he saw.

“Neither did I, Bull,” Theo said, trying to stay calm. He’d been here before; at least, that’s what everyone told him. But his memories were faint and fragmented, like a reflection in muddy water. He tried to recall those moments of fear and panic but couldn’t, like trying to remember a dream. His heart skipped. Everything had happened so quickly in those first days in Haven that he realized he had no memory of what exactly had _caused_ the breach, or why he’d been there in the first place. The realization made him even queasier than the shifting landscape.

Everyone stared at him as if he knew where to go next. He didn’t. He was completely helpless, and didn’t even know how he’d gotten them all there in the first place. Theo stared around at his four companions and focused on Dorian. The first time they’d met they’d been stuck in an impossible situation and Dorian had kept calm. Now Theo fixed him with an imploring stare and willed away the panic.

“It would appear you can open rifts as well as close them,” Dorian said, taking Theo’s hand and examining his vibrantly glowing mark. But his touch was warm and steady, and Theo felt calmer. “How you did it only the Maker knows. The real trick will be getting out.”

“We’re… physically here?” Stroud asked uncertainly. He mumbled something in Orlesian, perhaps a prayer. Theo understood his fear: the last time anyone (besides himself) had been to the Fade bodily, the Blights had begun and made Stroud and his order necessary.

“Somehow. In saving us from falling to our deaths, Theo’s brought us to the Fade instead.” Dorian had not let go of Theo’s hand and now he searched Theo’s eyes with a critical, academic gaze of his own. Theo squirmed and tugged his hand away; he didn’t like the way Dorian surveyed him as a specimen. He supposed that, as a Tevinter mage, Dorian had every right to be curious and concerned about the course of events. But he was still just Theo. Wasn’t he?

Hawke cleared her throat. “I used to think the phrase ‘go toward the light’ was some Chantry bullshit, but…” She pointed with her staff. “That over there. It looks like one of your Fade rifts. We’re getting nowhere standing about and lamenting.” She looked around and when no one argued, set off.

Theo followed, just happy not to be leading for the moment. This was Hawke and Dorian’s realm of knowledge.

They walked over rocky landscapes dotted with puddles that didn’t feel wet; they passed twisted trees and murky swamps and alcoves that looked like bedchambers. A chill crept up Theo’s spine and he looked around, nervous. “Did you feel that?” he asked Bull in a low voice.

Bull shook his head. “I’m just trying to ignore the fact that I’m being dragged through the ass-end of demon town,” he said in a growl. They walked in silence for a few more paces. “What did you feel?” he asked as an afterthought.

“A chill,” Theo said, glancing about. His skin crawled and his ears perked up at the sound of clicking pincers. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching for his bow. They were in the Fade, but in his experience, a spider was a spider. He wheeled around just as the first huge spider lunged for him with a squeal.

He had to rely on his battle reflexes to keep from shutting down completely. It was bad enough he’d opened a rift and sent them physically into the Fade, but giant spiders?

A second spider scuttled down a rocky wall and shot a sticky string of web toward him, and Theo rolled out of the way. He thought he felt a hairy leg brush over him and he fought the urge to curl up into a trembling ball. He fired at the spider high up on the wall while the Bull took down the one on the ground. When they were both dead Theo shuddered and brushed off his sleeves and torso, feeling as if he still had them crawling all over him.

“You alright Boss?” Bull asked.

“I _hate_ spiders,” Theo said vehemently, still trying to shake the creepy crawly feelings.

Bull regarded him curiously. “You saw spiders? Shit. I _wish_ I’d seen spiders,” he muttered, but did not elaborate. Theo wondered what he’d seen, and wished he’d seen anything other than spiders. It brought him back to his childhood, times he didn’t care to recall.

“It would seem that we’re in the realm of the demon Clarel was going to bring through,” Dorian said when they paused for a rest. “It appears it’s a fear demon.”

“Makes sense,” Stroud said. “Clarel was ruled by fear. Eremond fed on it. She would have become possessed by it if she’d brought it into our world.”

“Thankfully she got eaten by a dragon first then,” Hawke said casually, earning a glare from Stroud. She stared ahead at the bright beacon that was the Fade rift and their way home. It hardly seemed that they’d made any progress, but she and Dorian both assured them that time and distance functioned differently in the Fade.

“If we survive this perhaps I’ll tell you about the spiders someday,” Theo told Dorian as they headed off once more. He tried not to look around him at the constantly shifting dreamscape.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dorian said, taking his hand.

“Something ahead,” Hawke said. She’d taken point, and everyone had been happy to let her lead. It was a glow, but not the sick green Theo had become so used to. It was white and soft and comforting and gave Theo the first sense of hope he’d had since before the siege of Adamant.

_Smoke. Flames. Everything wavering between light and dark, green and red. Pain, fear. Run toward the light. Climb. An outstretched hand. Desperation. No time to wonder friend or foe. He takes the hand._

Theo shook his head and squinted at the glow as it took on a vaguely human shape. There was no doubt in his mind, muddled though it was, that this was the presence that had saved him the first time. The strange female figure that witnesses had seen, and claimed was Andraste.

Iron Bull clutched his weapon tightly but did not move. Stroud and Hawke both fell to their knees as if in prayer, and Dorian, always the academic, peered closely at the figure. Theo walked forward, unafraid; there was too much fear here already.

“Welcome back, Theodane,” she said and slowly took the shape of Divine Justinia V.

“So you’re not Andraste then,” he said, and she laughed softly.

“No, only Our Lady’s most humble servant, striving to serve her even in death.”

Of all the questions Theo had, all he could think to ask was, “Does this mean I’m _not_ the Herald of Andraste?”

“You are whomever you choose to be,” she said. “Just because you were not saved by Andraste herself does not mean that you do not herald her will. If that is what you choose to believe.”

It felt strange to admit to the spirit of the Divine that he’d never been very religious, and the whole role of Andraste’s Herald had made him uncomfortable. He’d jumped from no one to religious symbol, when all he’d wanted was just to be a person. “I don’t think belief alone will get me out of here,” he finally said, running his hand over his hair and gazing toward the far off rift.

She shook her head. “No. Fear holds you back, and is perpetuated by the demon who rules this realm. I will guide you through the Nightmare Demon’s lair the best I can, though you will have to recover your memories of what happened in order to truly understand why the Nightmare plagues you. Only facing fear and understanding it can help you defeat it.”

Theo sighed. “Shit. Just… no more spiders?” he asked hopefully, and Justinia smiled. She reached out a glowing hand and touched his forehead.

_It’s been nothing but meetings and arguments for two days now. He sits in each one, disinterested, gazing around at the ancient architecture, arms crossed over his chest as the resentment builds inside of him. He won’t go home. Father made that clear. This journey to the Conclave is a privilege, and Theo should look at it as a sacred pilgrimage and consider himself lucky to be here._

_He doesn’t._

_The bitterness is a poison inside of him, flooding his limbs and making him shake with anger. He wants to run away, but two Chantry brothers from Ostwick have been assigned as his ‘assistants’: Bann Trevelyan slang for jailers. Theo’s not sure what’s worse: that Bann Trevelyan has given him guards, or that for the first time in Theo’s life, his father is acknowledging his feelings. And not doing a damned thing about it._

_But Theo learned a long time ago how to be truly invisible, and he sneaks out of his tiny bedchamber long after dark. If he can’t run away, he can at least walk off the angry energy that builds in his muscles._

_His steps are silent in the stone corridors. The torches burn low, casting shadows he blends into. He hears muffled voices from behind closed doors: people hashing out alliances and allegiances, arguing, lamenting the day’s discussions. He doesn’t care about any of it._

_“Help! Somebody!”_

_He doesn’t care, but that does make him look up. He quickens his pace. The voice cries out again and he breaks into a jog. The cry is leading him toward the main chamber._

_“Keep the sacrifice still,” a deep voice says; a voice that sends chills down Theo’s spine._

_He doesn’t think. He flings open the door and sees first a monster hovering over the ground, staring at him in shock. A ring of Grey Wardens surrounds the Divine, holding her still as the monster approaches. The monster holds a glowing green orb in its twisted claws. The Divine takes advantage of the creature’s distraction and flings out her arm, knocking the orb from its hand._

_It falls to the floor with a clink and rolls. Theo lunges for it and grabs it before anything else can._

_Pain, burning up his arm and all through him. Green light searing his flesh and bones. The monster hastens toward Theo, its eyes wide and horrified, and then there is nothing but light._

Theo staggered back, clutching at his throbbing head. “I… caused the explosion. It’s true.”

“You caused the explosion when you stopped Corypheus and absorbed the Anchor, yes; but in doing that, you saved many more lives,” the Divine said softly. “You took the magic of the anchor into yourself and gave humanity a way to stop Corypheus for good.”

“And the Grey Wardens…” he asked, casting a guilty sidelong glance at Stroud.

“Were acting out of fear. Most likely under the control of Corypheus and his Nightmare Demon,” Stroud said, stoic as always. He stared at the spirit of the Divine. “Lead us to the resting place of this Nightmare,” he said. “If the Grey Wardens began this, I swear on my life that I shall see its undoing.”

Justinia began to float toward the rift, and under her guidance it started to appear closer. With her nearby, the atmosphere also felt less oppressive. “Are you sure you trust her, Boss?” Iron Bull asked. He’d not spoken in a long while, and he was tense enough to snap at any moment. “This is the damned Fade. You can’t trust anything here.”

Theo couldn’t explain why he trusted the spirit, at least not in a way that the Bull would understand.

“Spirits have a different sort of feeling than demons,” Dorian said. “Demons prey on your insecurities and fears; even the ones who try to trick you and build you up. In some subtle way, they are preying on your doubts. Spirits do not, and this spirit… whether it is the Divine or just a spirit of comfort taking on her form, feels genuine. I’ve been in the Fade enough to tell,” he said.

“You’re biased,” Bull grumbled, but he kept following Hawke and Stroud while Theo and Dorian brought up the rear.

Every so often Theo caught Dorian looking at him curiously. Theo sighed. “I don’t like any of this,” he finally said quietly so only Dorian could hear. “I hated being the Herald of Andraste, and I hate even more having to tell people that some spirit who looks like the Divine is the one who saved me. I hate that Bull has to be here, and that you know I’m afraid of spiders.”

Dorian lightly squeezed his shoulder. “Spiders truly are creepy things, and why the Maker made them is beyond me. As for everything else… you’ll find a way. You always do.”

Theo appreciated Dorian’s confidence, but found it hard to absorb any of it. Especially when they neared the Nightmare’s nest and a flurry of giant spiders came out at them, hissing and squealing and pincers clicking.

Dorian flung his hands forward and a ball of flame burst forth and incinerated the majority of them. Theo hung back and picked off what he could; he was certain his companions were seeing things they feared, but fought against it. He could do no less. He fought through the columns of smoke, choking on the smell of burning spiders. The green light of the rift was so close now.

“Bull, go through!” he ordered, and the Qunari paused in his fighting long enough to give Theo a strange look. “That’s an order. You. Through the rift, now!” Iron Bull gave Theo a long look, and finally nodded his great horned head. He got in one final blow against a spider and then dived through the rift.

The spiders scattered. All was silent. And then an oppressive presence descended over them as the green mists of the Fade parted to reveal a hulking demon that was part spider, part dripping corrupted mess, and all nightmarish horror.

“Dorian, go,” Theo said quietly. “Get through the rift.”

“No.” Dorian stubbornly stood his ground as the spirit of Divine Justinia floated up toward the Nightmare in an attempt to buy them time. “If something goes wrong and you’re trapped here, the Inquisition _will_ fail. You cannot ask me to do that,” he said.

The spirit of the Divine had flustered the demon, but it was descending upon them with venomous fangs and oppressive waves of fear rolling off of it. Theo didn’t feel any of it; his greatest fear in all of this had been losing Dorian, and if he had to shove Dorian through the Fade rift himself, he would; he would not give the demon the satisfaction of taking that from him.

“One of us can stay behind,” Hawke said. “Fuck it. I started the bridge collapse in the first place,” she said, staring at the ground. “I’ll remain and give you the chance to go back and continue the Inquisition.”

But Stroud had loosened his shield and pulled his sword from its scabbard. “No. The Grey Wardens caused this. Let a Grey Warden help end it. In death, sacrifice,” he said.

Dorian, Hawke, and Stroud all stared at Theo as the Nightmare bore down upon them. He became aware that Dorian had cast a shield over them and that was keeping the Nightmare at bay for now, but once he was gone, they stood no chance. They couldn’t expect Theo to make this sort of decision. “There has to be a way for us all…” he started, but Hawke and Dorian, both mages who’d seen the best and worst the Fade had to offer, shook their heads.

Theo closed his eyes. “Hawke. Go,” he said quietly and did not look to see if she listened. “Stroud. I’m sorry,” he said.

Stroud clapped his fist to his chest and bowed. “Inquisitor. It has been an honor,” he said simply, before turning to face down the monstrous demon.

Dorian’s barrier fell.

They ran.


	20. Fallout

_Chapter 20: Fallout_

Ostensibly, Adamant had been a victory: Eremond was in chains, and the Grey Wardens, free of Corypheus’s control, had elected to join the Inquisition at Theo’s request. It was an army that more than replaced the numbers they’d lost. They headed back northeast across the Dales and met little opposition, and were making excellent time back to Skyhold.

“I thought you’d be happier about your first major victory,” Dorian said to Theo, who sat at a precarious camp table drafting his report for Leliana and Josephine. Dorian reclined on the cot, not as large or comfortable as the one they’d shared at Griffon Wing Keep; but at least camp accommodations meant they were on the way home.

Theo paused in his writing, shrugged, and gave a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement.

Dorian sighed. “Will we continue not speaking for another night?” he finally asked. He kept smiling, but in truth he was worried. Since their return from the Fade Theo had been reticent, and worrisomely distant; normally that was Dorian’s job.

Theo set down his quill. After a moment of thought he turned to face Dorian. “I’m not sure what to say,” he said.

Dorian went to him and wrapped his arms around Theo’s shoulders. Theo stiffened for a moment then relaxed, though he was still troubled. “It sounds rather sappy and cliché, but perhaps you might tell me about your feelings,” Dorian suggested.

Theo leaned his head back against Dorian’s torso. His face was pale and haggard with uncharacteristic purple blotches under his eyes. “I left Stroud in the Fade,” he finally said. He shuddered. “I _left_ him there to face that… _thing._ And I ran. I can’t sleep because I’m afraid I’ll dream and see him there, still fighting a losing battle.”

Dorian took one of Theo’s hands. “He offered himself as a sacrifice,” he said quietly. “You honored his request and allowed him to save us.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Why must it be complicated?” Dorian asked. “That fancy motto the Wardens are always reciting: it must mean something to them. Why can’t it mean exactly what it says?”

Theo got up. “I need to get some air,” he said and headed out into the night without even looking at Dorian.

_Fasta vass._ Dorian didn’t know whether to follow him or not, and ended up flopping back on the cot, frustrated. He rubbed his eyes as if he could erase the images of the raw fade burned into his memory. He’d grown up navigating the Fade as easily as the streets of Minrathous, but to be there physically was a shock even for him. He’d learned long ago to manage the Fade’s influence over his subconscious while he slept; but in the days since leaving Adamant he’d had dark dreams. Often he woke in the night and held Theo close and they both pretended to sleep. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for Theo, a non-mage, to navigate the Fade and to recover his memories of the explosion that had leveled the Conclave, but with Theo unwilling to speak about it, Dorian could do little.

Theo had been the one to insist on no walls between them, and now he’d gone and erected the biggest one yet. It surprised Dorian just how it upset him. He’d grown to enjoy the openness they shared, and for that to be gone after one instant left him feeling confused. And Dorian did not like to be confused.

Dorian was still lying on the cot, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, when Theo returned long after darkness had fallen. He wordlessly stripped down to his smallclothes and squeezed into bed with his back to Dorian.

Even though Theo’s warm back was pressed against Dorian, he still seemed far away. Dorian wrapped an arm around Theo’s torso and pulled him closer. Theo sighed, but Dorian still needed to feel him there, solid in his arms.

“I still haven’t forgiven you,” Dorian finally said.

“I was asleep.”

“You weren’t. You get this funny little whistle when you’re asleep. Sort of like a snore, but much more dignified.”

Theo squirmed in Dorian’s hold. “So you haven’t forgiven me because… I wasn’t snoring?”

“No. For making me think you weren’t coming back,” Dorian said. His stomach clenched as he said it, but the discomfort would be worth it if it broke down this wall Theo had put up. “You pushed me through the rift. I tumbled out into the courtyard of the fortress and you weren’t there.”

“I was right behind you,” Theo said, his voice a little sharper than Dorian would have expected. “I wouldn’t have stayed. I couldn’t stay.”

“And you shouldn’t have stayed. But for one moment… I thought you were lost to me,” Dorian confessed. He closed his eyes, pressed his cheek against Theo’s spine. He listened to the beat of Theo’s heart and the cadence of his breathing, listening for any sign that he was getting through to him.

“Well. I’m not,” Theo said after a long moment.

“You may as well be, the way you’ve closed up,” Dorian said gently.

Theo rolled out of bed and fumbled for his clothing in the dark. Dorian sighed and fell back again. “Where to now?”

“Your tent,” Theo said, tugging his shirt over his head and jerking up his breeches. He grabbed his boots and stalked out into the night, leaving Dorian to navigate his troubling Fade dreams alone.

He didn’t sleep much that night. He didn’t realize how accustomed he’d grown to sleeping with Theo by his side.

* * *

Theo just wanted to get home.

They began to climb the foothills of the Frostbacks a few days later, and the day after that, Theo rode at the head of the column and set the pace. It was demanding climbing up the steep pathways, but he was so desperate that he kept going even when the sun began to dip low in the western sky.

The stars were beginning to pop into the eastern sky when Skyhold came into view. Theo remembered the first time he’d come home, after the Crestwood mission. So much good had happened on that venture. Now, Theo just felt empty. And he didn’t have Dorian by his side this time.

Horns sounded their arrival and the great portcullis was lifted to admit them. Torches had been lit along the ramparts and lanterns were hung along the walls to light pathways. The crowds parted to allow Theo to dismount and hand off his horse, and no sooner had his feet touched the ground than people were scurrying to surround him.

“Inquisitor! I know you’ve just returned but…”

“Your Worship! There is a Chantry matter of urgent business…”

“The Inquisitor has just returned from a mission of grave importance and must be allowed to pass,” Josephine broke in, elbowing through the throng. “As I told each of you when you sought audience, your matter will be dealt with in due course,” she said. She stared down each person in turn, and they eventually slunk away. “Welcome home, Theodane,” she said, hugging him.

Theo nearly collapsed against her, but held himself upright. “Thank you,” he said. Now that he was back that sense of home filled him with relief. “I take it I have a lot to do?”

“You’ll never lack things to do,” Josephine said. “And if you do, then I am not doing my job,” she added, playfully jostling his elbow. “You should know, before anything else, that your decision to recruit the Wardens has been rather… polarizing.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, I’m getting that impression,” he said. “Is there anything pressing that _must_ be done tonight? I just want to sleep,” he said, and though he tried, it still came out sounding like he was begging.

Josephine looked down at her list. “Chantry business… sentencing Eremond… more Chantry business… Oh.” She paused and glanced up at Theo, biting on her lip. “You have a personal guest.”

“I didn’t invite anyone,” Theo said. He continued on into the great hall and averted his eyes from the dragon’s maw throne. He couldn’t look at it and think about the judgments he would have to pass. He thought again of Stroud, lost somewhere in the shifting dreamscape of the Fade, if not already dead. Wasn’t that judgment enough?

“No, they rather invited themselves. But the potential for an alliance is strong, and Leliana and I figured it might be beneficial to you to meet with them.”

“I’m too tired for this, Josephine,” Theo said. He tried to smile. “I’ll meet with them tomorrow, I promise.” And before she could try to wile him into a meeting, he entered his private quarters and locked the door behind him.

He was so tired he thought he would sleep until late hours in the morning; but his weeks on the road and in the desert had trained him to get up with the sun. He lay in bed for a long while, staring at the walls around him and wishing he could get back to sleep, but the brighter the light became, the more awake he felt.

Perhaps, this early, he could wander Skyhold relatively alone. He’d had precious little time to think about how to handle everything. There would be no avoiding holding court today, and while he dreaded it, he didn’t want to be unprepared.

He stole out of his quarters and into the main hall, which was empty but for a few servants who took little notice of him. He made his way toward the main door, but it began to creak open so he ducked into the hallway leading to Josephine’s offices. There was a stairwell he’d never taken notice of before, so he dashed down the stairs and into the shadows of a large room. He’d never had the luxury to explore like this, and he tested various doors with curiosity. It was like being a child again, exploring the vaults and passageways beneath the Ostwick manor, learning to disappear and hoping no one ever came after him.

One door yielded and Theo found himself in a tiny, cobweb-draped library, face to face with Dorian.

To stay was to admit he’d been wrong. To run was to do pretty much the same, though he didn’t know how to explain how he felt, or if Dorian would really understand. He thought of several things to say, but nothing seemed quite right.

“You never told me about the spiders,” Dorian said at last, glancing up from the dusty old book he was reading. He handled it gently, reverently. Theo watched his hands on the cracked leather cover; he missed feeling Dorian’s touch.

“My sister Thisbe is five years older than me. She’s… not very nice,” he said with a grimace. “She locked me down in the cellar when I was five. It was dark and cold, and there were cobwebs all over and I could hear the spiders in the dark. I got bitten,” he said.

“And did your sister learn anything from that?” Dorian asked.

Theo laughed, though the memory was bitter; even as a young child he hadn’t mattered. “No. She’s a great storyteller, and my parents believed her. I was lucky I kept my foot,” he said. “But after that, spiders terrified me. She would tell me the Chantry dorms where the initiates were kept were dark and full of spiders.”

Dorian replaced the book. “Are you sure then that it’s spiders that terrify you, and not your sister?”

Theo shrugged. “They could be the same thing. Thank the Maker I haven’t seen her in years. She was married off, and I hope she’s miserable.” He glanced at Dorian. “What did you see?” he asked, curious.

“My father with a knife, as usual,” Dorian said. “The Fade… it’s a strange place; before the southern Circles fell they preached that the dangers of the Fade lay in its unpredictable nature. But I’ve found that, the more familiar one is with it, the more predictable it becomes.”

“Ideally this will be the last time I ever have to worry about going into the Fade,” Theo said. “Once was miraculous, twice is pushing it.”

“And I’d rather you avoid it as well,” Dorian said. “I keep telling you I’m not saying goodbye, and each time you try to test me.” He shook his head, a slight smile touching his lips.

Theo blushed and rubbed his neck. “So I haven’t driven you away entirely?”

“My dear, you will have to try much harder than that,” Dorian said with a smile. “The Fade is an ordeal under the best of circumstances, and those certainly were less than ideal.” He held out his hand to Theo, who gladly took it and they embraced.

“Josephine will send out a search party,” Theo murmured into Dorian’s shoulder. “I’d rather she not find this place.”

“She probably already knows about it,” Dorian teased.

“If she did she’d have found us by now,” Theo pointed out, taking Dorian’s hand. Josephine was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, writing board in hand and a pinched, impatient look upon her face.

“If you two are quite ready,” she said with a huff, turning and leading them not to the main hall, as Theo would have expected, but the war room. “There is much to discuss amongst the inner circle prior to passing judgment,” she explained. “And it’s probably better for your image to let everyone speak with you privately rather than before the entire court,” she added in a tone that made Theo’s stomach turn.

He took a deep breath and headed into the war room. Cassandra stood speaking with Solas, and they both had unpleasant expressions on their faces when they turned to look at him. But Varric was smiling at least, and Theo was glad he had good news about Hawke. Cole was… somewhere in there. Whenever Theo tried to look directly at him, Cole seemed to disappear; though he was there, in the edges of Theo’s vision. Leliana nodded her hello while Cullen and Bull were leaning over the map.

“What were you thinking?” Solas snapped before Theo could say anything. “Bringing the Grey Wardens here? They’re still susceptible to possession! They could be binding demons as we speak.”

“Can you bind me?” Cole asked in a soft voice. “I don’t want to become possessed by a demon.”

“No one’s going to possess you, Kid,” Varric said, laying a hand on Cole’s arm. The dwarf looked at Theo. “And how’re you?” he asked. Theo realized he was the first person to ask how he was doing since returning, and it made him grateful.

“Alive. Home.” He wanted nothing more than to hide away and pretend nothing had happened. “As for what I was thinking…” He paused. What had he been thinking? Armies. Numbers.

“The Wardens may be susceptible to possession, but is it not better for them to be under our watch where we can see signs of it early on, than to leave them to their devices elsewhere?” Dorian asked.

“It makes me nervous,” Cassandra said, looking away. “Though I understand the point. I’ve seen so much go wrong that I’m hesitant, but if this is the will of the Inquisition… I can support it.” Her jaw was tense and she kept gazing off to the side.

“We can set some of Fiona’s mages to working with them and seeing if there’s a way to block Corypheus’s mind attacks,” Leliana suggested. “Perhaps Alexius would prove useful. Which leads us to Eremond,” she said.

The bickering started all over again. Theo stood in the middle of it all while Dorian and Solas argued and Cole mumbled in fear; Josephine and Leliana tried to reason with Cassandra. Theo stared at his hand and wished he could open a rift right there and step through it into the blissful silence of the Fade. Who was he to command the Inquisition and make these choices when he couldn’t even keep his own team under control?

“Shut it!” Bull bellowed over everyone. His voice echoed off the walls, the pillars, and the floor. He stood at his full height, chest puffed out and glaring down at everyone with his one eye. “Look. I didn’t like getting my ass dragged through the Fade. In fact I hated it. But the Boss is doing the best he can. He doesn’t need us complicating shit for him even more. He’s the Boss. Let him be the Boss,” Bull said. He leaned back against a pillar again and nodded once.

Theo felt his face getting warm. “Thank you,” he said to Bull. He stood straighter. “I made a difficult choice knowing not everyone would agree with me,” he began. “You don’t have to agree with it. You don’t have to like it. But I made my choice with the best intentions for the Inquisition in mind, and I will stand by that choice. I will not send the Grey Wardens away, and I will not argue with anyone about it,” he said. Thick silence filled the spaces between everyone, and for a moment Theo was afraid he’d overstepped his bounds. No. He was the Inquisitor.

After a moment he nodded. “Good. Josephine, what’s on the agenda?”

Varric told them all he’d learned on his venture to Valammar, a Deep Roads entrance deep in the Hinterlands of Ferelden. Bull’s Chargers had gone after Red Templar communiqué in the Emerald Graves and had troubling reports pointing toward Emprise du Leon. “Samson has set up an operation there, apparently,” Cullen said, skimming the papers before him. “We can discuss how we wish to proceed at a later time though.”

“Also, we may have made some headway in getting an audience with Empress Celene,” Josephine said. Her dark eyes sparkled and she bit her lip in excitement. “There is to be a ball held at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral, where Celene will hold peace talks with Grand Duke Gaspard.”

“You’ll have to dance,” Leliana said with a playful smile. “I’m sure you learned though, growing up a noble’s son?”

Theo shook his head. The world was falling apart and they wanted to be sure he knew how to dance? “I’ll worry about that when the time comes,” he said; it was easier than admitting he hadn’t the first idea of how to dance, other than that it usually involved music. “Now… I suppose it’s time for judgment?” He headed for the door, whether the meeting was over or not. His head was spinning with the information; it was hard to hear his own voice over all the others in there, and he didn’t want to discuss his pending judgment session and lose more of himself.

* * *

The din of the great hall died when Theo entered. His heart thudded and his legs felt shaky, but he made his way to his throne and sat—rather than collapsing—upon it. Josephine stood beside him and called the first prisoner: the mayor of Crestwood. Theo listened to his story of why he flooded the old town, how he only wanted to save what he could. He wasn’t a bad man, just misguided. Theo thought the guilt he’d harbored for the last ten years was punishment enough, but the eyes of all were on him. “Mayor Dedrick, you are exiled henceforth from Ferelden,” Theo finally said. “May you seek the path of the Maker’s forgiveness,” he added when he caught a glimpse of Chantry livery out of the corner of his eyes.

A variety of other pleas were brought before him, including two Revered Mothers come from Val Royeaux. “We _must_ choose another Divine,” one said, wringing her hands. “Sister Leliana and Seeker Cassandra were the left and right hands of Justinia. The gathering cannot choose without their input.”

“Surely the Inquisition can spare at least one of them,” the other piped up. “For the good of the Chantry.”

Theo sighed. “I am pleased that you have such confidence in the Inquisition,” he said and they smiled. “But I will not order either to accompany you to Val Royeaux. The decision will be up to Leliana and Cassandra.” They started to protest. “And that is my _final_ word on this matter. Josephine?” he asked with a stiff smile as the two Revered Mothers were led away, still in disbelief.

“Your final case for the day is the judgment of Livius Eremond,” Josephine said grimly. The crowds parted as guards led him in, bound in lyrium shackles. Where Alexius had been resigned to his fate, Eremond kept trying to shake off his guards and sneered at Theo. “Tevinter has divested him of his titles and turned him over to the Inquisition for judgment.”

“Cease this farce immediately,” Eremond snapped. “I refuse to recognize this court’s authority!”

Theo stared at the man before him. He remembered the demons; the dragon; Clarel’s death, and the Fade. Stroud, left behind to fight off the Nightmare demon and cover their escape. “You’ve made quite the mess,” he said. Eremond started to argue back, but one glance from Theo, and one of the guards backhanded him across the face. Eremond sat in stunned silence. “My first instinct is to have you made tranquil,” he said, and there was a murmur throughout the hall.

“You wouldn’t,” Eremond hissed.

“You’re right,” Theo said. “If I did so, I’d have to look at you and constantly be reminded of the harm you brought to Thedas.” Eremond’s shoulders slumped in relief. Theo’s fingers dug into the arms of his throne and tried to keep his anger out of his face. “But I will sentence you to death for your crimes against the Inquisition and your role in trying to turn the Grey Wardens into servants of the enemy.” Next to him Josephine uttered a startled gasp, clearly not expecting this. “Lady Montilyet, please see to the details of the execution?” he asked as he stood.

“Of course, Lord Inquisitor,” she said, her moment of confusion past. “But you have one more individual seeking audience with you,” she said with a smile and a glare that clearly told Theo to sit down and hear this last petition. “Finally, I present Bann Alick Trevelyan of Ostwick, in the Free Marches.”

Theo felt himself go cold. He stared at his marked hand and wished he could open that Fade rift right about now.


	21. Dearest Father

_Chapter 21: Dearest Father_

Dorian was actually a bit disappointed. He’d been expecting glowing red eyes and claws; or at the very least, frown lines as deep as the Abyssal Rift. But Bann Alick Trevelyan was quite normal. In fact, Dorian could see a strong resemblance between the Bann and his youngest son, though he wasn’t sure he would be telling Theo that any time soon. Theo sat stiffly on his throne, hands gripping the arms tightly and his face a shade of green that could rival that of his mark.

“So that’s the cause of his infamous daddy issues,” Varric muttered beside him. The dwarf stroked his chin and Dorian would be willing to bet plenty of coin that the dwarf had a story forming in his head right about then. “I thought he’d be bigger. More imposing.”

Dorian hid his smile. “Sometimes our monsters are bigger in our own minds,” he said, remembering his own father. At least he hadn’t had to face Halward in front of what seemed like half of Thedas. He didn’t envy Theo one bit right about now as Bann Trevelyan pledged the allegiance and armies of Ostwick to the Inquisition. The Bann’s voice was clear and carried through the hall. Dorian had always assumed his voice would be stern and gravelly.

At last the final echoes of his speech died out. Theo licked his lips and glanced over at Josephine, who just smiled pleasantly. Dorian was glad that she was going to make him talk to his father. “The Inquisition thanks you for your support and… accepts your allegiance,” Theo said at last. Only Dorian, and possibly Bann Trevelyan, could hear the faint wavering in his voice. Theo stood, maintaining his composure somehow, and exited to his quarters.

Dorian waited while the crowds thinned out. Varric walked away and Josephine was busy conversing with the Chantry mothers who clucked at her like worried hens. How the woman could stand it, Dorian had no idea. Josephine caught his eye and smiled. “Revered Mothers, perhaps we might discuss this while walking the grounds?” she asked in a tone that was more command than suggestion. She managed to steer them toward the door and cast a backward glance at Dorian.

He glanced around, but most had left and those that remained were busy in discussion with one another, so he knocked lightly on Theo’s door. There was no response, but he tried the lever and the door opened. He slipped through quickly, shutting it behind him and casting a simple cantrip to stop the lever.

He’d not been in Theo’s private quarters before; but before, their relationship had still been in early stages that required the utmost propriety. Not that Dorian was about to put Theo in an awkward position; but he wasn’t so timid about approaching him, either.

At the base of the staircase leading up to the bedroom he knocked again. No response. He waited before knocking once more. “If I need to sleep out here tonight I will,” he called through the door. “Though it might put me in a foul mood, and it would be entirely your fault,” he added. He didn’t relish the thought of how the stone floor and the cold would feel, and he shuddered to think what would happen if Theo called his bluff.

At last the door opened a crack and he could see Theo peering through at him. “You wouldn’t. Your hair would never survive,” Theo said.

“So are you going to just stand there, or will you let me in?” Dorian asked.

“Only if you brought wine.”

“ _Venhedis._ I didn’t know you were going to expect it of me,” Dorian said with a smile, though he was inwardly cursing himself for not thinking of it. “Shall I return later with said libation in hand?”

Theo opened the door fully and shook his head. “No, I’ll just send for some.” He headed up the stairwell into his room and Dorian followed. The room was huge, with cavernous ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the mountains. Theo headed out onto a balcony and leaned on the stone railing. It was chilly and Dorian shivered, though Theo didn’t seem to mind the cold as the breeze ruffled his dark hair. “I felt like I was five again. Or fifteen. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know how I managed to keep myself together.”

Dorian wrapped his arms around Theo as much to keep warm as to comfort him. “You’re not the frightened and bitter young man you were at the Conclave,” Dorian said. “If you were still that person then you would have crumbled the moment your father was announced. You’ve grown and come into your own in a way neither you nor your father could have anticipated.” Theo shrugged. “Rather than fall back on that person, you relied on who you’ve become.”

Theo chuckled. “Some days I wonder who I’m becoming, or if I’m still just… fumbling toward something in the darkness.”

“I think we all are, to a degree,” Dorian said, squeezing him. He led him back inside where it was warmer. The fire was dying, so Dorian flicked his wrist at the hearth and a small ball of flame surged forth and caught on the logs. Theo flopped on his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Dorian perched next to him. “You accepted his alliance. That’s very adult of you.”

“If I didn’t Josephine might have added my name to tomorrow’s execution list,” Theo said. “I wasn’t sure who I was more afraid of: my father or her.”

“What do you intend to do about him?”

“Lock myself up here until he leaves,” Theo said simply. “I’ll have my meals brought, move the war councils up here, and if you moved yourself in, I’d have everything I need in one place,” he said with a wistful smile.

Dorian reclined beside him and stroked his wavy hair. “You flatter me, _Amatus_ ,” he said fondly even as his heart skipped a beat. Where in the Void had _that_ come from? He took a deep breath. “But as lovely as that plan sounds, it makes you a hypocrite and a coward.”

Theo sat up, leaning on his elbows. “Why should I have to face him?” he asked, his cheeks a blotchy crimson. “He never wanted me in the first place. And now that I’ve actually become someone he cares?”

Dorian shook his head. “You made me speak with my father,” he said, remembering his shock and anger from so many weeks ago when his own father had surprised him. “You told me I would regret not telling him how I felt, and you were right.” He grimaced. “It wasn’t pleasant, but I did rather enjoy telling him where he could place his staff.”

That brought a smile to Theo’s face. “Would you do it with me?” he asked, turning his pleading green eyes on Dorian. “I can’t do this alone,” he added.

Dorian met Theo’s gaze. “You are the Inquisitor. You’ve closed a breach, taken down Tevinter Magisters, recruited the Grey Wardens of Orlais, and walked out of the Fade _twice_.” Theo sighed. “My point is, my dear, I faced my own father without having all of those qualifications behind me. I think you can face yours.” He punctuated his statement with a kiss.

* * *

Theo could get used to waking up with Dorian in his bed here in Skyhold. The morning sunlight was warm and golden on Dorian’s skin, and his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he dreamed. Theo stretched and sat up, then began searching for his clothes in the pile they’d ended up in on the floor before he and Dorian made love again that night.

Alick Trevelyan had made it clear that he’d never wanted Theo. However, Dorian wanted him. The Inquisition wanted him. This was his life now, and the longer he lived it the more comfortable and secure with it he became.

Still, he’d once told Dorian that there would always be a masochistic part of him that cared about what his father thought.

Theo sighed and climbed out of bed. It was still early and he was growing to enjoy mornings in Skyhold before most people were up and about. He left Dorian to his dreams and headed downstairs. Josephine would probably be up, working on the last details of the execution; if she slept, he did not know.

Sure enough she was at her desk, hardly a hair out of place, and her eyes bright as usual. “Good morning, Inquisitor,” she said with a smile, which quickly faded. “I confess, this may be one of the most difficult things I’ve done, and I once trained as a bard,” she said as she stared at the scroll she was writing in her immaculate, flowing script. She set the quill in the inkpot. “You’re up early.”

“And yet you still beat me to it,” Theo said with a grin. He sighed. “Josephine… Why didn’t you tell me that my ‘personal guest’ was my _father_ of all people?” he asked. It had weighed on him since he first saw his father approach the throne.

She sighed as well and leaned back in her chair. Now that he’d broken the ice, she allowed herself to look as tired as she surely felt. “I did try,” she said at last. “I tried to be smooth and to let you know, but you’d just returned from Adamant. You were tired, and many people wanted your attentions. First, as an ambassador organizing your affairs, it would not have been fair to grant the Bann an audience when I would not have done that for anyone else. Second… perhaps I did not say anything _because_ it was your father. You _had_ to face him if you were holding court. You couldn’t run away, because you knew I’d hunt you down,” she said with a hint of a smile.

She did have a point. “Actually I think that would be less terrifying than seeing him again,” he joked.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain of that, Theo?” she asked. She sounded casual enough, but there was that hint of a challenge to her voice that made him not so sure, so he just thanked her and left, promising to be ready for the execution later on. For now, he needed some time to himself.

He sat in the garden for a long while before he heard a door creak open. He sighed; so much for his peace. He pasted on a smile and stood. He turned to see his father leaving the tiny chapel just off the garden. Theo froze and his eyes darted around the garden; where could he hide, and could he move without being seen?

But it was too late. Bann Trevelyan spied his son and strode toward him. Theo stood rooted to the ground as if he’d grown there like the trees. He kept his smile pasted on even as he felt like vomiting. A few paces away, then a few less, and then his father stood right in front of him.

Theo had always thought his father was an imposing man, taller than he was and able to glower down at him in disappointment and expectation. But this close, standing on equal ground, Theo was actually the taller man, though not by much. Perhaps in the months he’d been leading the Inquisition he’d learned to stand more confidently. He cleared his throat. “Good morning. I trust your prayers went well?” It was an effort to keep his voice steady.

“Quite. I had a lovely conversation with your Revered Mother Giselle, and Andraste and the Maker reward the faithful,” he said. His cool hazel-green eyes swept over Theo, who tried not to slouch and look away. “You’ve been quite faithful,” he added with a half smile.

“Um. Yes,” Theo said, even as he knew it was a lie. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d prayed, and the last time he’d been in a Chantry was Haven; that had doubled as a command center more than a place of worship and prayer. The reality was that in these last months he’d grown to rely on and believe in his luck more than anything. But how to tell that to his father, so devout he would give up his child to the Chantry?

“The truth is, I’d woken early in the hopes that I might find you before anyone else did,” Bann Trevelyan said. “I prayed I’d have the time to speak with you without other company present.” He smiled. “I’m pleased to see you looking well.”

Theo looked at the ground, his father’s stare finally proving too difficult for him to bear. If Bann Trevelyan knew the half of what Theo had been through… “Thank you,” Theo said at last, rather than get into it. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ his father to know where he’d been or what he’d done. Dorian, Varric, Cassandra, the Bull… those were the people who had been there for him. His father had sent him off to the Conclave and had turned away.

Bann Trevelyan sat on one of the benches and gestured for Theo to join him. Theo’s mind told him _run! Run now!_ But his legs refused to obey and he found himself seated next to his father. He scooted as far away as he could manage. “News of your reputation has spread over Theadas; even in Ostwick we’ve heard of your judgments and your deeds in Andraste’s name.” He stared at the sky. “My son. The Herald of Andraste,” he said in an almost dreamy voice that sent a tingle of annoyance through Theo.

Theo sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve never liked that nickname,” he said. “Call it luck, call it divine providence or whatever you like,” he said. “But I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Because the Maker willed it so,” Bann Trevelyan said. “And to think, you didn’t want to go to the Conclave!” He was smiling, and there was a touch of laughter in his voice.

Theo turned his hand over and stared at the glowing green mark there. He hardly felt it anymore, and yet it still defined everything that he was. His father stared at it as well. “You’re right, I didn’t,” he said softly. “Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t there.” He dared a glance at his father, whose brow was furrowed in confusion. “You never asked what I wanted,” he said. “Ever. And now you’re making the assumption that I should be grateful to _you_ for all of _this_?” he asked, gesturing to the high walls and turrets of Skyhold. He stood. “I have an execution to attend to,” he said and left. He felt his father’s gaze on his back as he stalked back inside.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to see your countryman executed?” Theo stood in the hidden alcove with Dorian, searching the mage’s face for any hint of displeasure.

Dorian shook his head. His hand drifted to Theo’s face and cupped his cheek for a moment. Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. “You don’t need my approval,” Dorian told him. “Look at me,” he ordered, and Theo opened his eyes. “You are the Inquisitor. This is how you saw fit to deal with Eremond.”

“But he’s another Tevinter,” Theo said. He didn’t know why he felt the need to have Dorian’s approval on this, but it probably had something to do with his father. He didn’t know that Bann Trevelyan would approve of such an unmerciful sentence; but he also didn’t want to change his mind and be seen as weak.

“Tevinter disavowed him, same as Alexius. Eremond is a nobody. And before that, he was Venatori. He’s one less madman who can make his way back to my homeland.” Dorian gave him a light kiss. “Remember what we went through in the Western Approach because of him. Remember who you are, and don’t worry about who he wanted you to be,” he said.

The courtyard was packed with people eager to see Skyhold’s first execution. Theo nearly felt ill; he’d sentenced a man to die, and his own father was watching. Josephine had mentioned, on the way out, that Bann Trevelyan would like more time with his son. Theo didn’t doubt that his father was here somewhere, watching. Theo stood on the makeshift scaffold with Josephine and stared out at the crowd below him. Dorian stood near the front and nodded slightly. Varric and Iron Bull stood near Dorian. Theo didn’t even look for his father.

Eremond was led out from the dungeons dressed in a rough tunic, barefoot, with his once-coiffed hair hanging in his face. He struggled against the guards. “Do you know who I _am?”_ he shouted. “I am Magister Eremond! I demand you release me to Tevinter!” he screamed over and over again. It took three guards to haul him up on the scaffold. One man kicked Eremond’s legs out from under him, forcing him to his knees, while another shoved his shoulders forward so his neck was on the chopping block. And still, he squirmed and struggled. Theo couldn’t tell if it was arrogance or fear.

The masked headsman stood nearby, his massive axe resting easily on the scaffold, honed blade gleaming in the morning sun. Theo didn’t know who it was; it could have been anyone, really, and he was glad he didn’t know. He didn’t think he could meet the eyes of the executioner if he knew.

Josephine handed him a scroll and he unrolled it. His hands felt numb and he focused on the parchment rather than Eremond. He cleared his throat. “Livius Eremond of Vyrantium: you have been charged with apostasy, blood magic, and willfully serving Corypheus, enemy of the Inquisition and all of Thedas.” Damn, Josephine was an excellent writer. He took a deep breath. “You willingly made maleficar of Grey Warden mages and attempted to raise an army of demons. For this, the sentence, as pronounced by me, Inquisitor Theodane Trevelyan, is death.” Theo handed the scroll back to Josephine and made himself stare at Eremond.

The headsman hefted his axe and his heavy footfalls thudded across the wood. Eremond suddenly stopped struggling as the reality of his impending death set in. His dark eyes met Theo’s for one moment, and Theo made himself stare, cold and hard at the man. Eremond looked terrified as he realized that this was not some scare tactic; the Inquisitor meant business.

The headsman raised the axe. Silence. Then the blade whistled through the air as it came down with a metallic clang against the stone chopping block, and Eremond’s head rolled onto the scaffold as blood poured down and soaked the boards.

Theo swallowed against the bitter lump in his throat. “Let it be known what happens to enemies of the Inquisition,” he said, and though it was soft, it still rang out over the silent gathering. He turned, descended the scaffolding, entered Skyhold, and promptly found a place to throw up.


	22. Meddling Mothers

_Chapter 22: Meddling Mothers_

“You agreed to an alliance, and it must be solidified,” Josephine said in her sternest voice. “This is vital. All of Orlais will be watching to see how you handle this. This could make or break our invitation to the ball at Halamshiral.”

Theo rolled over in bed and pulled his pillow over his head. All he wanted was to avoid the world for… well, forever. Between the events of Adamant and now Eremond’s dead eyes and bright red blood at his feet, he had enough nightmare fodder to last him years. “I’m sick,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow. That was true enough. He’d stopped vomiting, but every time he recalled the resounding clang of the axe or the sight of all that blood his stomach heaved. “Have dinner, thank him, send him back to the Marches.”

Josephine yanked the pillow off his head and tossed it on the floor, then pulled the pile of blankets off of him. “No. You are getting up and asking your _father_ and the Inquisition’s _guest_ and newest _ally_ to dinner.” Theo rolled over and squinted up at Josephine. She scowled down at him, her hands on her hips and her nostrils flared. “You are the Inquisitor, and a grown man!” she snapped. “This is less than becoming behavior.”

Theo sighed. He knew very well just how immature he was being. But he was responsible for saving Thedas; wasn’t he allowed some small indulgence? Josephine’s narrowed dark eyes said ‘no’ in a way her voice couldn’t. “Fine,” he said and rolled out of bed, pushing past her and heading over to the wardrobe. “Maybe you could write me a script so I don’t screw up,” he suggested.

Josephine huffed and threw a pillow at him. It landed on the floor and she stormed down the stairs. “Talk some sense into him,” he heard her say. “He might listen to _you_.” Theo grabbed clothing from the wardrobe and ducked behind the privacy screen.

“You managed to disgruntle Lady Montilyet,” Dorian said and Theo sighed as he pulled off his shirt and threw it over the screen. “It’s quite admirable. Even the Chantry types from Val Royeaux and the petty nobles with their requests for favors haven’t been able to do that.”

Theo finished dressing. “She wants me to personally invite my father to dinner,” he told Dorian, who grinned. “It’s not funny,” he said. “I already talked to him, he knows how I feel, and we have our alliance with the Marches. I can’t see what anything more will solve.”

“Maybe it’s not about solving anything, but resolving everything,” Dorian offered. He straightened the hem of Theo’s shirt and swept a stray lock of Theo’s too-long hair off his forehead. He held him by the shoulders. Theo looked away, but Dorian gently turned his chin, making Theo look at him. “You only have to host him for dinner. You don’t have to like him,” he said. “And besides, afterward he can leave; if he’s unhappy, who cares? You don’t have to put up with him ever again if you didn’t want to. But Josephine on the other hand…”

Theo couldn’t help but laugh, and it felt like some weight was removed. He pulled Dorian close and held him gratefully. “You’re right,” he said. “But… would you come with me?” he asked, pulling back and meeting Dorian’s gaze with a hopeful one of his own.

Dorian shook his head. “Leliana’s people were able to acquire some rare texts from the Imperium. They’re in an older form of Tevene, and some in Arcanum, so I’m hoping to translate them and possibly learn more about Corypheus and who he might have been, if anyone,” he said. His pale grey eyes sparkled with anticipation. He squeezed Theo’s hand. “I will see you later, assuming you survive this encounter,” he said with a wink.

“I’d rather face Corypheus again,” Theo called after him, and Dorian just waved his hand as he descended the stairs. The ancient darkspawn lord had not made any appearances in the metaphorical flesh since Haven. He remained a shadowy threat over the Inquisition: menacing, but just distant enough to seem… well, not quite the menace he’d first seemed to be. It was easy to think of the distant villain as preferable to the one right under Theo’s own roof.

As Theo walked through the main hall he wished people would beg him for favors; but Josephine had trained them all well when he was away in the west, and now all he got were a few polite nods and murmurs of “Your Worship,” as he passed. Bann Trevelyan wasn’t in the main hall; of course he’d make his son have to look for him.

Theo supposed he could just summon him; that would make for an interesting role reversal. He decided against it though, and less because of his father, and more because he owed it to Josephine to make an effort. He also owed her an apology. It felt like he did a lot of apologizing since returning from the Western Approach.

He tried the Chantry chapel just off the gardens. If he were to find his father anywhere in Skyhold, it would likely be there. Theo nodded greetings to a few Chantry initiates tending to the herb garden. The scent of blooming elfroot was calming, and the thought of an angry Josephine and a smug Dorian was enough to make Theo steel his will and head into the chapel.

The windowless room was only big enough for a few dark pews and a statue of Andraste. The air was warm and heavy with incense and it wasn’t long before Theo felt his eyelids drooping and a yawn building. He stifled it and looked around, but didn’t see his father. A wave of relief washed through him and he turned, only to be face to face with Mother Gisele. This time he had to stifle a groan. “Revered Mother,” he mumbled.

“Inquisitor,” she said in her warm and soothing voice. “I so rarely see you down here. Are you looking for your father?”

“I was, but since he’s not here I was about to leave,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll find him somewhere; Skyhold is big, but even it has its limits,” he added with a forced smile.

Mother Gisele did not move; she either missed his subtle cue, or ignored it completely. Probably the latter, Theo thought. She touched his elbow and he bristled. “Come, talk with me Inquisitor,” she said, gently steering him toward a pew. “I’ve heard tell of the horrors of Adamant. I can only imagine what effect those have had upon you, with all the other pressures you face.”

He shrugged. “It was difficult, but I have a good support network,” he said. “They got me through. And… the Maker is good,” he added a bit stiffly.

Mother Gisele smiled; if she sensed his insincerity she didn’t indicate it. “I prayed that the Maker’s strength would find you, and that he would give you peace when you executed that Tevinter.”

Theo sighed. “Yes. That was difficult. I thank you for your prayers.” All he wanted to do was forget Eremond’s execution and move on.

“How did your Tevinter friend react to it?”

Of course this would have to be about Dorian. Theo suppressed a shudder of anger and gripped the edge of the pew bench. “The execution went forward with his blessing; Dorian is from Tevinter, but does not condone the actions of his countrymen. I thought we went over this before, Mother Gisele,” he said. She nodded, but said nothing. A cold feeling settled in his stomach. “If this is about Dorian and me…” Would he get struck by lightning for punching a Revered Mother? He thought he recalled the Lord Seeker punching one in Val Royeaux, back when all this had started; he didn’t remember lightning though, and that made the thought all the more tempting.

“Your father seemed to hope that you would marry and carry on the Trevelyan name,” she said at last.

Theo stood and stared down at her. “Did he tell you he never really wanted me, that I was just a mistake? That my brothers were the ones who got to carry on the family line, and I got to go to the Chantry?” he asked her, struggling to keep his voice from rising. “So now that I’m the Inquisitor it matters?”

“He is your father, Theodane,” she said in that motherly voice that was oh, so deceptive. “He cares for you, the way the Maker cares for all of us.”

“The Maker decided humanity was a disappointment and turned away from us,” Theo said. “So I suppose the comparison is apt.”

The look on the Mother’s face was the same as if he’d physically slapped her. “But Andraste—“

“We can’t all be Andraste,” he said. “We’re not all lucky enough to be that special.” He stormed to the door, opened it, and stood face to face with his father. Bann Trevelyan was pale and troubled, as if he’d been listening at the door… and he probably had. Theo turned back to Mother Gisele, who now stood twisting her hands and subtly shaking her head at Bann Trevelyan.

Pieces clicked into place. “You asked him to come here,” Theo said. “When you couldn’t get Dorian’s father to make him leave, you figured you’d get _my_ father involved.” Her wordless stare confirmed it. “And you wonder why some people don’t trust the Chantry? Because you can’t stop meddling in their business! No wonder the templars rebelled as soon as the mages did!” He tried to push past his father, who was trying to block the door.

“Theodane, please,” his father begged. “I didn’t raise you to be this way—“

“No, you hardly raised me at all,” Theo said, twisting and sidling past. He stood in the sunlight of the garden. “Josephine made me come ask you to come to a formal dinner this evening to solidify the alliance. Assuming you still want it. I really don’t care either way,” Theo said and turned his back on his father a second time. He knew he still had a long way to go if he was going to make up for all the times his father had turned his back on him.

* * *

As a child, Dorian had learned early on how to get lost in a book. It passed the lonely hours while his father was in session with the Magisterium and his mother was hosting garden parties with her friends, always showing off. He didn’t have friends; he had competition. At least with a book there was never the need to one-up the text; it just was what it was. When he went to the Vyrantium Circle at fifteen, he took the habit with him. Even when he went to Minrathous to study with Alexius and befriended Felix he’d still trusted books more. A book couldn’t betray him.

Skyhold’s libraries had started out sparse, but the longer the Inquisition went on the more books began to flood in. Fallen Circles sent what books they could salvage, and the University of Orlais in Val Royeaux had sent many gifts. And most importantly, Sister Leliana’s adept spies had acquired some rare tomes from Tevinter. He thought he even recognized one or two from the Vyrantium Circle, and reading it felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

If he’d had any old friends with whom he’d have wished to reconnect.

He’d spent the better part of the day engrossed in books from the Imperium. He enjoyed reading something about Tevinter that wasn’t propaganda for once; it was infinitely more useful, and the more he read the more he thought he was beginning to understand Corypheus and the old Magisters. It sent shivers through him when he realized that it wouldn’t be hard for a modern Tevinter Magister to do the same thing they’d done, and a strange fear gripped him when he realized that was exactly what the Venatori were aiming to do.

Dorian nibbled at the lunch plate a library assistant had brought to him hours ago. The sunlight was shifting, moving away from his window. And while he’d loved the uninterrupted time to read and research, he wondered just what Theo had gotten up to. If things had gone well, Theo probably would have come up to tell him about it. At least Dorian had been able to leave his father behind in Redcliffe; Theo had to play the good host until his father decided to depart, because Josephine would probably kill him if he didn’t.

He closed the book and shuffled his notes into a leather folio and left the library. He had an understanding with the library staff, that the first alcove to the left was his, and if books were left out, he was probably using them. The staff wouldn’t touch them, Dorian wouldn’t get frustrated, and everyone would be happy. So far it was working out well.

He passed through Solas’s atrium; the elf was busy examining something, which was just as well. Dorian wasn’t sure he was up for a lively discussion about the Fade just now, not after what he’d experienced. He was still trying to make sense of it himself. He’d done something most Magisters only ever dreamed of.

Josephine wasn’t in her office, and Theo wasn’t back upstairs in his room. Dorian strolled through the halls of Skyhold, nodding greetings to those who passed. People were still a little chilly toward him, but the outright hostility he’d experienced early on had ebbed. It was progress at least.

Outside the sun had gone behind the turrets of Skyhold, casting the courtyard in shadows. Theo wasn’t drinking his sorrows away in the tavern, though several of the Chargers were, and Bull was snuggled up to a pretty serving girl in the corner. Eventually Dorian made his way further down closer to the stables where practice ranges had been set up. A lithe elf was practicing throwing knives, and Theo was firing off a volley of arrows at the targets.

Dorian stood at the fence watching the way Theo moved. When they were out in the field he had on light armor and a cloak; now Dorian could see the fluid movement of Theo’s muscles in his back and shoulders as he drew his bowstring. Theo stood absolutely straight, holding the bow as if it were an extension of his arms. The look on his face was one of intense concentration; his jaw was tightly clenched and his hair was swept impatiently across his forehead. He needed a haircut. Or not. Dorian just watched Theo shoot gracefully, methodically, and imagined running his hands through that tousled dark hair later this evening.

“You must be the Tevinter,” a man said, approaching and standing next to Dorian to watch Theo.

Dorian glanced over. Sure enough, it was Theo’s father. “I am from Tevinter, yes,” he said with a pleasant smile. He glanced over Bann Trevelyan’s shoulder and saw Mother Gisele speaking with a few people, and did not miss her glancing in their direction. “I do have a name, though I’m sure the Revered Mother neglected to mention it. Dorian, of House Pavus, servant of the Inquisition,” he said. And though it pained him to do so, he held out his hand.

Bann Trevelyan took it and shook. “He’s an excellent shot,” the Bann said, watching his son. “I realize now how much I missed out on by following tradition. And yet… if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t be here, doing such good work.”

Dorian nodded, eyes on Theo. He remembered every story Theo had ever told him about his lonely and all but invisible upbringing. While it made him angry on Theo’s behalf, it was true; had Bann Trevelyan treated his son well and allowed him to make a choice, Dorian might never have met him. And the thought of a life without his _amatus_ by his side made him go cold. “I suppose I… and the Inquisition owe you that then,” he said casually, avoiding eye contact.

“The Inquisition has certainly amassed quite a following,” Bann Trevelyan said.

Luckily Dorian had been raised around nobles who always meant more than they actually said. “Yes. Your son has done a wonderful job of welcoming in all who oppose our common enemy. Even those of us from Tevinter.”

“And yet he presided over the execution of your countryman the other day,” Bann Trevelyan said.

“Eremond does not represent the Tevinter I know and love and seek to restore someday,” Dorian said with a shrug, eyes on Theo. If he focused on Theo’s elegant form he could keep from trying to singe off his father’s eyebrows. “I’m grateful for his presence here,” he added.

“Mm. I’m sure you are,” Bann Trevelyan said, and Dorian was grateful for his upbringing. Anyone else would likely have punched the man.

They watched in tense silence until at last Theo shot off his last arrow and went to collect the rest of his arrows from the target; they were all clustered around the center. As he walked back he paused, flicking his eyes between Dorian and his father. Bann Trevelyan waved and smiled hopefully, but Dorian knew Theo far better than his father did, and he gave a simple nod. The Bann could pretend everything was well and good all he wanted.

“You’re an excellent shot, son,” Trevelyan said as Theo neared. Theo just shrugged his thanks and veered toward Dorian. The Bann sighed and glanced back at Mother Gisele, shaking his head.

“See you at dinner,” Theo said over his shoulder as he and Dorian headed back toward the entryway. “Did you have to talk to him?” He winced.

“I did, but I can handle uppity nobles,” Dorian said, wrapping his arm around Theo’s waist. “I handled my father, I can handle yours. Which makes me wonder… how much do you think he knows about…this? Us?”

Theo paused, glanced back at where his father and Mother Gisele were still standing. He stared for a moment and then kissed Dorian long and hard. “He probably knows everything with that mother hen clucking around, and I honestly don’t care,” Theo said. “He spent twenty-three years not caring about me; he doesn’t get to start now, and think it should matter to me.” He cupped Dorian’s cheek in his hand and met his eyes. Dorian felt a strange flutter in his stomach. “I told you long ago that I didn’t care what people think, and it’s still true.”

Dorian tried to hide his smile, but he couldn’t. “You make it more and more difficult to consider ever returning to Tevinter, my dear,” he said, and they headed inside. Some days Dorian even forgot that he’d ever wanted to go back in the first place.


	23. Rehearsal Dinner

_Chapter 23: Rehearsal Dinner_

The way Josephine talked, it sounded like the evening would be a huge formal affair: practice for the ball at Halamshiral, taking place in a matter of weeks—if they could secure the invitation. And according to her, much of that relied on how Theo handled himself in forming this alliance. He’d have to ask Varric how many stories he’d been telling; apparently, his fractured relationship with his father was legendary. It was oddly amusing; until a few months ago, no one had even known or cared that there was a third Trevelyan son.

Theo finished buttoning his red overcoat and adjusted the gold sash around his waist. He felt stiff and formal; when he tried to move his arms the coat pulled across his shoulders. “I can’t shoot in this,” he grumbled.

Dorian, dressed similarly, laughed. He was far more at ease in stiff finery, having been raised in the heights of nobility. He lounged on the chaise, watching Theo with amused eyes. The red coat looked perfect with his warm skin and glossy dark hair and pale eyes. Theo sighed; it just made him look pale and uneasy. “You don’t pull a bow in dress clothes,” Dorian said. “You fight with words; not arrows.”

“I’ve always let my bow talk for me,” Theo said, staring into the mirror. He hardly recognized himself. Not that they didn’t throw dinner parties in Ostwick; Marcher finery was usually a bit simpler than this, Starkhaven notwithstanding. “I’m terrified of this ball they’re all planning.”

Dorian’s smile spread. “Music. Dancing. Potentially poisoned canapés, and the finest wines, all topped off with barbed conversation. What’s so terrifying about any of that?”

Theo joined Dorian on the chaise. “Everything,” he murmured. “But I think I can handle it if you’re there with me.”

Dorian gave a high-pitched mocking giggle. “Inquisitor! Is this your way of asking me to the ball?” he asked, his gaze mischievous.

“Oh, so we’re on those terms now?” Theo asked with a grin as he wrapped his arms around Dorian. “I thought it was just assumed that you’d be going.”

Dorian snuggled into him. “Oh it is,” he said. “Still, no one _has_ ever asked me to a ball before.”

“You’re a pain,” Theo said, laughing and kissing Dorian’s neck. At least the formalwear allowed enough movement to get close.

“Yes, and you love me anyway,” Dorian said, glancing up at Theo through his long lashes.

Theo remembered the night before the siege of Adamant Fortress. The lingering desert warmth, the moonlight, the whisper of the wind outside as Dorian held him and they made love for the first time. He’d promised himself that if they survived Adamant he’d tell Dorian how he truly felt. “I… do,” he said. His stomach twisted and he held his breath, afraid this was the moment that everything crashed down around him.

“Do what?” Dorian asked, his smooth voice almost teasing and his hand practically burning a hole through Theo’s formalwear. Or at least that’s how it felt.

Theo felt his mouth dry out, but his palms were sweaty. “Love you,” he managed. He stiffened and closed his eyes and waited for the void in his arms when Dorian left.

Dorian climbed into his lap and straddled him. He took Theo’s face in his hands and placed a long but gentle kiss on his lips. “And I, you, my _amatus,”_ he said, brushing Theo’s dark hair off his forehead. “But I suppose we’d better be heading to dinner before Lady Montilyet sends out a search party,” he added.

Theo sighed and wished they could stay here all night, just the two of them, away from the world. But Dorian had a point, and he took one moment to adjust his clothing and allow the blush to fade from his cheeks. When he turned, Dorian had already left. There would be no avoiding this. The sooner he appeared at dinner, the sooner it would be over and the sooner his father would leave.

Skyhold’s formal dining room was huge, spacious enough to host any number of visiting dignitaries. But only one long table was set, and Theo was about to head over to it when a servant gently stopped him. “Many pardons, Your Worship,” he said, bobbing his head in apology. “But you must be announced.” Theo sighed. “Again, I do apologize, but it is custom, particularly for one of your standing,” the man said, his eyes darting nervously between Theo and the floor.

Another servant appeared. “His Worship, Inquisitor Theodane Trevelyan of Ostwick, Free Marches,” the man announced. His voice echoed through the dining room. Theo glanced toward the table and sought out Josephine, who nodded once. He proceeded down the carpeted walkway. Everyone at the table stood, and he tried to get a glimpse of who was present. Josephine, Dorian, his father… Leliana and Cullen, Varric, a few masked Orlesians, and a stunning Orlesian woman with an ornate headdress who fixed him with a cool stare. Luckily Theo had been learning to hide his discomfort, and he focused on his seat at the head of the table.

He made it without tripping. Or throwing up. One small victory.

“My lords and ladies,” he began. His voice did not crack. Another victory. “I thank you for attending,” he said, and took his seat. Josephine sat at his left, and his father sat in a place of honor to his right; it made Theo’s stomach twist, but he looked a couple seats down and saw Dorian, who flashed him a subtle glance and a slight nod, and he felt better.

The first course was served, but Theo hardly knew what it was because he was trying to keep track of all the names Josephine threw out at him. The Orlesians were there on behalf of Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, one of the parties vying for control over Orlais. Duke Bastien de Ghislain was present with Madame Vivienne de Fer, the First Enchanter of Orlais and an advisor to the Empress herself. Theo did notice the chill between Duke Bastien and Gaspard’s envoys. Vivienne was engaged in pleasant conversation with Bann Trevelyan; apparently she’d been raised in Wycome, just south of Ostwick. Theo was grateful that she kept his father’s attention diverted. She caught Theo’s eye just once, and her dark, unreadable eyes seemed to sense his discomfort. She kept talking with the Bann, keeping his attentions from Theo.

“How do I keep everything from being such a jumble?” he murmured to Josephine as servants cleared the first course and began to set out the second. He’d barely touched his food, but they took his plate anyway. “And do I get to eat?” he asked.

“Probably not,” Josephine said, her own food also untouched. “Why do you think I wanted my offices so close to the kitchens?” she added with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes that made Theo stifle a laugh.

Talk turned to the terms of the alliance with Ostwick over the main course of roasted boar. Theo pushed his meat around on his plate as he listened and tried to appear attentive; he was starving, but afraid to take a bite lest that be the exact moment his father or one of the Orlesian envoys asked a question and he’d have to answer.

“Ostwick has 2,500 infantry troops ready to join the Inquisition,” his father said. “Add that to the 500 mounted cavalry. They’re ready and willing to serve the Herald of Andraste,” he said with a meaningful look on his face.

So Bann Trevelyan still believed all of that, regardless of what Theo had said earlier. It was again just more evidence that his father would never listen to him or care what he had to say in anything. He tried to remember what Dorian had said: it wasn’t about solving things, but resolving things. He couldn’t control what his father thought, but he _could_ control his reactions. He cleared his throat. “Corypheus threatens all of Thedas,” he finally said. “His Venatori followers are powerful. The increased numbers for the Inquisition’s forces will assist us in taking them down,” he said, trying to keep his voice from sounding too stiff.

“Ostwick’s troops would give us a significant advantage,” Cullen said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with an embroidered napkin. “I’d be happy to meet with your commander to discuss how and where to best position the Ostwick contingent.”

“Thank you, Commander Cullen; I can have word sent to Ostwick immediately. They’ve been prepared to march since before I left.”

Theo wondered when and if he should jump into the conversation, but caught Josephine’s eye. She mouthed the word _delegate_ to him and he nodded and tried to grab a few bites of dinner before his plate was whisked away yet again.

The discussion moved on to the issues between the mages and templars. “I don’t deny that the Circles served a purpose, Lady Vivienne,” Cullen was saying. “But I served in two Circles that had lost sight of that purpose.”

“What came of the Ostwick Circle?” Theo asked suddenly. “When I was sent… I mean, when I left for the Conclave they’d chosen to remain neutral. I’ve not heard much news of individual Circles since.”

“Outside rebels infiltrated,” Bann Trevelyan said. “Those that did not agree were either run off or killed. Maranda escaped, and has been living at the manor,” he added, seeing Theo’s concerned expression. “I expect that’s why you asked?”

“I was sent from home,” Theo replied in a cool voice. “I didn’t run, and I still care for the fate of my siblings.”

“Then it would pain you to know Gavriel’s passed,” his father said. His words were a punch to Theo’s gut. “His widow was left childless. Matthias and his wife have only produced daughters. Lovely girls who will allow for continued strong alliances, but no one to continue the Trevelyan line as yet.”

A couple seats down, Dorian caught Theo’s eye. His expression was serious. _Don’t engage,_ he seemed to say, and Theo clutched at his napkin while a sorbet intermezzo was set before him. “It appears much has transpired in my absence,” he said at last. “We should discuss this after dinner. I don’t wish for our Orlesian guests to feel slighted,” he finished, and turned his attention to Lady Vivienne.

“Darling, do you suppose it was wisest to recruit the mages?” she asked. “It seems without a purpose the templars have simply run amok.” She took the tiniest spoonfuls of sorbet and her gaze never wavered from Theo’s face.

“Without protection the mages would have likely run aground of a similar fate,” Dorian broke in. “Southern mages seem to enjoy being told what to do. Doubtless you heard they’d joined with the Venatori prior to the Inquisitor’s intervention? Can you imagine the chaos if that had been allowed to continue?”

“And a Tevinter would know so much about how we poor, gauche southern mages function?” she challenged, though her tone never changed.

“Are we done yet?” Theo murmured to Josephine, who’d just turned from talking with the Grand Duke’s envoy, and was flashing a glance toward Leliana, who nodded only slightly. Whatever secretive non-talk was going on, Theo had no idea; clearly they did, and it made his head spin. The last course had long since been placed, and while some plates were cleared, others remained full as people brokered secrets and power around the table.

Josephine took a look at him, and whatever she saw there made her take pity on him. “Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps we shall adjourn for conversation in more private quarters,” she suggested, in that way that was no suggestion at all.

* * *

The night was cool, but a fire crackled in a fire pit in the garden, and torches had been lit in their brackets around the sitting areas. Theo would have given just about anything to share this space with Dorian, but instead he sat across from his father, who absently stirred a cup of tea. They’d sat wordlessly for at least ten minutes; maybe more.

“Gavriel died, then,” Theo finally said, his voice loud even over the crackling of the fires and torches. “Why didn’t you write me?” he asked.

“You’re the Inquisitor,” his father said. “You’ve been busy making a name for yourself all over Thedas. Slaying demons, taking down Tevinter mages, recruiting Grey Wardens for your armies… would the death of your brother have merited your attentions?”

Theo sighed. “Can you stop making yourself out to be the victim here?” he asked. When his father sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes, Theo shook his head. “There’s no one around. We’re adults, and I think it’s time to speak plainly.” His heart thudded in his chest. He’d feared his father for so long, and spent so much time wondering what he would say to his father if he had the chance. But it was as Dorian had said: Theo had faced far worse. Alick Trevelyan was just a man. “I cared for Gavriel deeply; he was probably closer to me than any of my other siblings.”

“And yet you resented him because you were the third son.”

“Yes. Because you ignored _me_ in favor of tradition,” Theo said. He sighed. “Is that why you really came? Because Matty’s having daughters and Gavriel’s gone? You hope that I’ll be the one to carry on your lineage?” His father’s silence was not unexpected. “What if the Conclave had never happened?” he asked quietly. “What if I were serving as a templar or a brother? Would you try to pull me away from the Chantry then?”

Bann Trevelyan’s face was pained. “I let generations of Free Marches tradition dictate how I raised my family,” he said at last. “If it appeared I did not care… perhaps it was because I knew your future and I didn’t want to cause myself pain.”

“How noble of you,” Theo said, his voice tight, his fist clenched at his side.

“It was selfish of me. I know that, and after thought and prayer I see your resentment is deserved,” he said. “Theodane, I am proud of who you’ve become,” he said, leaning forward, eyes imploring. “And you are still my son.”

Theo kept glaring at his father. “So now that I’m the Inquisitor and the supposed Herald of Andraste, you’ve pinned all your hopes on me? How does Matty feel about this? Or Gwyneth or Thisbe?” he asked. “And again, you don’t care what I want; you haven’t even asked!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? My recognition? My admission I was wrong?” his father asked, exasperated. He stared at Theo, who sat still as a statue, keeping his face blank and calm. “No,” he said after a moment. “You want to spite everything I stand for by being with a Tevinter. And a man at that.”

Theo finally relaxed in spite of his father’s accusatory tone. “And now your true colors show, as you always do, father,” he said. Another victory: getting his father to admit where he truly stood… and the realization that Theo truly did not fear him anymore.

“I serve the Chantry,” Bann Trevelyan said in a tight voice. His face was red in the firelight. “I’ve only ever sought the Maker’s will for my lands and my family.”

Theo stifled a laugh. “You never cared what I wanted, and now is no different. Dorian has been by my side from the beginning. He has supported me more in the months we’ve known each other than in the years I’ve been your son. Everyone in the Inquisition has been there for me in a way you haven’t. I may be your son by blood, but I’ve become more than that to more people than you.” He stood. “Yes, I love Dorian; I will not be ashamed of that. Nor will I be afraid of you any longer. You’re welcome in Skyhold as long as your business requires, but you will not see me again.” He took a deep breath. “Goodbye, father.”

Before this, Theo’s last memory of his father had been of Bann Trevelyan turning his back and sauntering into the manor house while the caravan to the Conclave left. He remembered turning in his saddle, waiting, hoping his father would change his mind; or in the very least, turn and wave. But he never did.

This time it was Theo who turned away from a red-faced, floundering Bann Trevelyan. He found the nearest entry to Skyhold and lost himself in the many darkened passages. He ended up in the basement and found the tiny, cobwebby library where he sat down and caught his breath. His formal clothing suddenly felt too tight and he undid the top button with shaking fingers. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry and wound up with hiccups, choking on the dust in the air in the process.

He was free. Free from the fear of his father and free to be himself, away from the influence of Ostwick forever. He’d once told Dorian that some masochistic part of himself would always care what Bann Trevelyan thought, but Theo felt that, with tonight’s talk, he’d excised that part of himself for good.

Even defeating Corypheus would not feel nearly this good. 

* * *

 

The announcement came only a few days later, and the way Josephine and Leliana shrieked, Theo would have thought they’d won the war. “Grand Duke Gaspard has invited you as his personal guest to the ball at Halamshiral,” Josephine said, breathless.

“And there is reason to believe that you will end up playing a role in the peace talks as well,” Leliana said. Her light blue eyes sparkled, as if the thought of playing the Game again had awakened some dormant part of her. “And if we can uncover the plot to assassinate the Empress, all the better,” she added.

Theo surveyed the map in the war room. Pieces representing the Inquisition’s armies and influence were placed, showing how far his reach had become…and how far it could still grow. It still boggled his mind that he of all people could have helped to make all of this happen. “What makes you think it won’t happen before the ball?” he asked Leliana.

“Has it happened yet?” she asked him. “The agents of the enemy have had ample time; but when better than a ball, with so many involved parties to blame?” It made such perfect sense that Theo felt like an idiot for not seeing it. “I’ve set up my best spies in Halamshiral and in the homes of Orlesian nobles. We will not go into this blind,” Leliana said.

“Good plans,” Theo said. “But… there’s just one problem.” Leliana and Josephine stared at him, practically on the edges of their seats. “I really, honestly have no idea how to dance.”

Josephine looked like she might murder him right there, but Leliana smiled. “That, my dear Inquisitor, we can work with.”


	24. Demands of the Qun

_Chapter 24: Demands of the Qun_

“You can’t dance.” Dorian stared at Theo, trying hard not to smile. “Weren’t you raised… no. Never mind,” he added when he saw Theo’s glare.

“We weren’t all trained as bards or raised as consummate nobles,” Theo grumbled. “Can’t you just cast a spell and look like me? Take my place?” he asked. They sat at a corner table in the Herald’s Rest. It was early enough that there were few patrons here. Theo needed to get out to the tavern and just relax. The last few days had been a flurry of activity as plans were laid for the trip to Halamshiral. Josephine and Leliana were like giggling girls, which disconcerted Theo; it reminded him of his sisters Thisbe and Gwyneth when their marriages were arranged.

“If I were you, then I’d be romancing myself,” Dorian said, leaning across the table and grinning. He sipped at his glass of red wine. “You survived an impressive confrontation with your father. Lady Montilyet and Sister Nightingale will teach you a few basic dance steps, everyone in the Orlesian court will be fawning over having the Inquisitor in their midst, and the night will go smashingly.” He frowned slightly. “This is still nearly a month away. Why worry so?”

Theo sipped at his own wine. He stared into his glass as if it could tell his future. “I don’t like having so much depend on me, and me alone,” he finally said quietly. He’d never really confessed this to Dorian; Dorian was always so poised and confident, and Theo drew from that. But now that Halamshiral was a reality, he realized just how much was riding on him. He’d been so occupied with the Grey Wardens, and then his father, that he’d nearly forgotten that most of Corypheus’s plot revolved around the death of Empress Celene. Now that the ball loomed on the horizon it felt like every day was just one more day disaster was averted.

“You have your friends by your side,” Dorian said. “You’ve surrounded yourself with a distinguished group, you know.”

“You flatter yourself,” Theo said with a small smile as he reached across the table and rested his hand on Dorian’s.

“Well that went without saying,” Dorian said with a wave of his other hand. “The left and right hands of the Divine. A Ben-Hassrath agent. A distinguished novelist and Deshyr of the Merchant Guild.” He paused. “Though I’d not be surprised if Varric was actually a spy. And since you’ve been busy simultaneously moping about the ball and elated about your victory over your father, you should know that Madam de Fer has pledged her services to the Inquistion as well.”

“I thought she hated me,” Theo said and downed the rest of his wine. He’d barely set his glass down when it was whisked away and a barmaid set down another.

“Oh she hates everyone,” Dorian said with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s all part of the Game. She’s a valuable asset. While she doesn’t approve of what looks like an alliance with Gaspard, she’s pleased you’ll be able to attend the ball as a result of impressing his men.”

“Who’s impressing men? You, boss?” The Iron Bull had appeared seemingly out of nowhere—quite the feat for someone of his size. He sat down next to Dorian. He grinned at Theo, who blushed.

“Of course. He is rather impressive if I say so myself,” Dorian said with a grin that made Theo’s face burn even hotter. His foot found Theo’s leg under the table. Since Bann Trevelyan had left it was as if another barrier had come down between them. Not that Theo minded; but the Iron Bull was Ben-Hassrath; he could read anyone, and was always right. Theo was sure that Bull was coming to all sorts of conclusions right about now.

“Boss gets shit done, which is pretty damned impressive in this world,” Bull said diplomatically, draining what was left in his ale mug and waving for another. He waited until the serving girl had set his drink in front of him and as she left, his one eye lingered after her. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I got some intel from my contacts. There’s Venatori activity on the Storm Coast.”

“That’s hardly news,” Dorian said. “The Venatori are all over Thedas.”

“What you didn’t let me say was that the Qunari are considering an alliance with the Inquisition.” He took a swig of his ale and met Theo’s eyes. “The Qunari, they don’t just ally with anyone. They sent a dreadnought after a Venatori ship full of red lyrium bound for the Storm Coast. I talked to Red; if we leave tomorrow we can meet my Ben-Hassrath contacts on the coast in less than a week. It’ll take at least that long for the ships to arrive there. So?”

Theo ran his hand through his hair and closed his eyes, as if he could think better if he couldn’t see Bull watching him expectantly. “The ball is less than a month away,” he said at last.

“Red and Josephine think we can time it right,” Bull said. “And if worst comes to worst, we can head straight for Orlais from the Storm Coast. Even take a ship if we need to; if we work this shit out with the Qunari, you may even find yourself sailing on a dreadnought,” Bull said with a wide smile, his single eye twinkling.

And that was how Theo found himself once again spending his nights in an army camp, listening to the howls of wolves and the moan of the late winter winds in the trees. After his time back at Skyhold he’d gladly forgotten the noise of camps, and the way there were always people around. It was nearly impossible to be completely alone… or alone with Dorian without someone passing by, or a messenger calling for him at the entry to his tent.

Or without Leliana coming in to teach him how to dance.

Or… attempt to teach him. “The way you move in battle, dancing will come easily to you,” Dorian said with a smile. He reclined on the cot, watching Theo with a critical eye. “Remember to keep your back straight,” he said. “And don’t look quite so stiff and uncomfortable,” he added with a grin.

Leliana had taken Theo’s hand in hers, and wrapped her arm around his waist. She giggled. “Relax, Theo,” she said, blue eyes sparkling. She was lighter and more relaxed than he’d seen her in months, thanks to the prospect of playing the Game again. “At the Orlesian court dancing is business, not pleasure. And we are there on business.”

“Though sometimes business is pleasurable,” Dorian interjected, and Leliana laughed again.

She led Theo through the basic steps and he spent all his concentration counting steps and following Leliana’s lead. Dorian occasionally barked orders: stand up straight, shoulders back, don’t dip the elbow… Theo’s head spun as he tried to follow directions and count and not step on Leliana’s toes.

Every night in camp was like this, and he was starting to get the hang of it when Leliana dropped the worst news of all. “You’re learning,” she told him as she put him through his paces yet again. “But as a nobleman, at court you will be expected to lead the dance.”

Theo shook his head as he stumbled. “I must have misheard you,” he said, pausing. “I thought you said I’d have to lead.”

“I did,” Leliana said in her lilting voice, but her eyes were harder, almost challenging. “You’re a noble and the Inquisitor. And word of your dealings with your father will have spread. To the court, you are a legend, but also a novelty. They have high expectations, and you must do more than meet them. You must exceed them.”

“You’re not used to expectations,” Dorian observed once Leliana had left to check in with Iron Bull about any further Ben-Hassrath correspondence. “You should be by now.”

“Well I’m not,” Theo said, taking out his knife and grabbing a long, narrow stick. He flopped down in a chair and began stripping the bark from it. The Inquisition’s bowyers and fletchers had long ago ceased reassuring him that he didn’t need to make his own arrows; the old habit was soothing and methodical.

It was still one of the fundamental differences between the two of them: Dorian had grown up among expectations. They were a challenge, and the mage was always calculating whether to meet them, exceed them, or fail spectacularly.

The months since the Conclave had changed Theo. In many ways he was proud of the changes and who he was becoming, but there was a part of him that was still afraid: afraid of what he was becoming or of whom he might become; afraid that he might say or do something someday and not even recognize himself. Growing up, the greatest expectation placed upon him was to be shipped off to become someone else’s burden.

He’d thought that telling off his father once and for all would magically change everything, but those old insecurities were still there. Some nights when Dorian was asleep, breathing softly beside him, Theo stared at the ceiling of his tent and wondered what his father was saying to his mother or siblings. “He’s not worthy to be the Herald of Andraste,” Bann Trevelyan might tell his wife. “I had hopes for him, but they’re long gone now,” he might say while commiserating with Matthias… which would also be a subtle dig at Matty, Theo realized. Matty might then go to his part of the manor and smile at his wife and daughters, but feel the heavy burden of disappointment that he’d not yet produced a son…

Theo sat up suddenly. Dorian shifted beside him, reaching for the blankets, but did not wake. He’d spent his whole life under the impression that he wasn’t good enough and never would be good enough for his father, and now he realized just how true that was; but none of his siblings ever would be, either.

He had to stifle his laughter to keep from waking Dorian. Even though the hour was late he felt light and awake. He slipped out of bed and dressed quietly. Most of the camp was asleep now and the fires had burned low. It had been chilly in the mountains, but had warmed up as they descended and moved north toward the coast.

There were the usual patrols on watch around the camp perimeter, and Theo skirted around them and out into the dark. He stared up at the starry sky and smelled the freshness of the air as if experiencing it all for the first time, and he tried not to laugh too loudly. He knew he’d probably still feel insecure about many things; but it wouldn’t be because of his father ever again.

* * *

It was raining on the Storm Coast. Wind whipped the warm rains at their faces and within a day of setting up camp everything was thoroughly soaked, and it took magic to start and maintain even a small campfire. “The last time I expended this much fire magic I was trying to keep you alive,” Dorian murmured to Theo as they shared an oilcloth draped overhead. It made Theo blush, but also remember his gratitude that even back then Dorian had believed in him enough to save him. They ate cold trail rations while Bull met with his contact, a wispy elf who went by the name of Gatt.

“The Vints have a camp up on this hill overlooking the coast,” Gatt said, pointing at a crudely drawn map in the mud. “Their main force is concentrated down on the coast, likely awaiting a red lyrium shipment.” He spit when he said it.

“Charming,” Dorian muttered, earning a glare from the elf.

“If Hissrad did not trust you, I’d have an Arvaarad leash you here and now, Vint,” Gatt snapped.

“I hope you’d buy me dinner first,” Dorian said dismissively, pulling the oilcloth more snuggly about himself and Theo. Theo looked nervously between Gatt, Bull, and Dorian, but Bull was shaking his massive horned head.

“We’re not here to convert anyone, Gatt, and the ‘Vint is with the Inquisitor. The Qun doesn’t touch him, and if they try, they go through me first,” Bull said, crossing his arms over his chest and effectively ending the argument. “I’ll send Krem in with the boys over here,” he said, pointing at the overlook camp.

“Giving them the easy job?” Gatt asked with a snort. “You’re going soft, Hissrad.”

Theo wondered why Gatt kept calling the Iron Bull “Hissrad”, but figured it was yet one more Qunari custom he didn’t understand. He’d had enough of a time grasping that Gatt was considered a Qunari.

“I want a swing at that main camp,” Bull said with a shrug. “Show them what happens when you fuck with the Qun.” He smiled, but standing there in the rain, with water running rivulets down his scarred barrel chest and the trees whipping in the wind behind him, he looked terrifying. Theo was happy the Bull was on his side.

Word came two days later that the red lyrium shipment was in sight. Theo was glad; the sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could leave the Storm Coast. He was beginning to forget what it was to be dry. Krem struck off with the Chargers, heading for the lookout camp. They would take out the camp, then rendezvous with Bull and Theo to help take on the coastal main camp.

It was a perfect plan.

Which was why it failed.

Krem sent up a flare. “That’s the signal,” Bull said. “Let’s head down and take on the main force.” He hefted his massive maul in his hands, grinning. “And there’s the smugglers’ ship. Perfect timing!” He laughed, but the sound was lost in the storm around them. He started down the path to the shore.

“Bull!” Theo called over the wind and rain. “They’ve got trouble!”

A contingent of Venatori mages had crested the hill into the camp and was taking on the Chargers, who were clearly outnumbered. “Let them fight!” Gatt said, slapping Bull’s massive chest.

“Those are my boys,” Bull said quietly. “They’re outnumbered.”

“And they’ll be the distraction we need,” Gatt snapped. “This is your chance to solidify an alliance with the Antaam.” He turned his attention to Theo. “Can you imagine the power a Qunari alliance would give your Inquisition?” he said. His hair was plastered to his head and his eyes were wild with pleading.

Theo stared at the overwhelmed Chargers, and at the smuggling vessel that was coming into sight. Then the Qunari dreadnought sailed into view behind it, a massive ship armed with more firepower than Theo had ever thought possible in one vessel. And Bull had said the Qunari had an entire fleet of those. The dreadnought dwarfed the smuggling ship easily. “The dreadnought can take the smugglers,” Theo said, looking back to the Chargers: good men and women who’d accepted him and pledged themselves to his cause. An alliance with the Antaam of the Qunari would be incredible; but these were people he’d fought with. And he’d seen it in Bull’s eye, as well.

“No, they can’t,” Dorian said quietly beside him. He gestured with his staff. The main camp was full of powerful Venatori mages, each one capable of ranged attacks. Theo swore softly; the Iron Bull, not so softly. “I can attempt to scatter them, buy some time…” Dorian offered. But even as strong a mage as he was, he couldn’t take on a full Venatori camp.

“Sound the retreat,” Bull said softly. “I’m getting my boys out of there.” He closed his eye and breathed deeply, as if centering himself or blocking out the dual carnage.

“Hissrad, _no,_ ” Gatt hissed, blinking the rain and disbelief out of his eyes. “Those are your people on that dreadnought. _Our_ people!”

“Those are _my_ men on that hill,” Bull said.

“The Qun demands—“

“Fuck it,” Bull said softly, turning his back on Gatt. “Those are my men and I won’t lose them to this.” He started up the trail, dragging his maul behind him.

“You’ll be Tal-Vashoth! You’re giving up everything for _them_. For those… those… _Basra_!” Bull kept walking, his gray skin blending into the fog that was descending over their position. Theo looked between the retreating Iron Bull and Gatt, who was staring at the Venatori firing at the dreadnought and swearing in Qunlat. “You’re the Inquisitor,” Gatt said, trying to make one last appeal. “Can’t you order him?”

Theo shook his head. “This is Bull’s decision,” he said at last, even as he wondered what the cost would be of losing the Qunari alliance. Josephine would flay him alive, if Leliana didn’t kill him first. But he _knew_ the Chargers; he’d shared campfires and meals and drinks and laughter with them, and most of all, he trusted the Iron Bull with his own life. He cast one last look at Gatt. “Will you watch it sink?” he asked quietly.

“You don’t know dreadnoughts,” Gatt said without turning around. “They don’t sink.”

“I’m sorry,” Theo said as a fiery explosion echoed off the rocky coastline and flames rose on the water where the dreadnought had been. Dorian touched his shoulder lightly and he started, having forgotten the mage was there beside him.

“Let’s go,” Dorian murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him in the Iron Bull’s tracks, leaving Gatt to watch the burning wreckage while the Venatori camp cheered their victory.


	25. The Game's Afoot

_Chapter 25: The Game’s Afoot_

The dreadnought explosion had taken down the red lyrium smugglers and their ship as well, so it wasn’t a total victory for the Venatori; but Theo took little comfort in that as they sailed their own ship through the Waking Sea on the way to Orlais. Growing up in Ostwick, he’d been on boats before, but never for days at a time. He spent most of his time on the top deck, staring out at the horizon, alone with his thoughts.

Dorian stayed below decks, curled into a ball and trying not to throw up; Bull paced the decks and spoke to no one. Everyone got out of his way, and even Theo didn’t try to talk to him. He exchanged glances with Krem, who just shrugged. Leliana stood at the bow, her brow deeply furrowed as she watched the gulls and the waves, as if she could will the Orlesian coast to appear in their line of sight.

No one was talking and it was driving Theo crazy. He was sure this sort of thing had happened at Skyhold; with so many different personalities and differing opinions, how could it not? But Skyhold was huge and sprawling. The ship was the largest and best the Inquisition could hire, but it was still too small to contain the anger and confusion and frustration.

Josephine and Vivienne de Fer met them at the tiny port nearest Halamshiral. While they were escorted by Inquisition soldiers, there was also a small contingent of soldiers wearing masks and bearing the crest of the de Chalons family. With them was a woman whom Josephine introduced as Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons, Gaspard’s sister. “Inquisitor, it is an honor,” she said, bowing low before Theo. “My brother regrets being unable to greet you himself, but he has sent me in his stead to see to your comfort.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Theo said. He was prepared to mount the horse the Inquisition had brought for him, but Florianne had brought a carriage large enough to accommodate herself, Josephine, Vivienne, Leliana, Theo, and Dorian.

In the carriage Florianne tilted her head to get a good look at Theo’s hand. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, but the tales of your mark are legendary. I hope it’s not to bold to request to view it?”

Theo shrugged. His glowing mark was just another part of who he was now. It no longer kept him awake at night and even Dorian, who was picky about his sleep, had grown used to it. But he supposed if he’d heard stories about it and finally had a chance to see it up close, he’d want to as well.

Florianne leaned in. The green light softly reflected off her silver mask. “Fascinating,” she murmured before sitting back again. “Is your companion ill?” she asked, eyes on Dorian.

“I’ve never taken to sea travel, Your Grace,” Dorian said with a tired smile. He wasn’t even trying to play the Game, and Theo tried not to smile.

Florianne nodded sagely. “I hope you recover soon, Master Pavus, so you might enjoy Orlesian luxury at its finest,” she said. She turned her gaze back on Theo. “I was sorry to hear that your quest on the Storm Coast did not go as planned,” she said casually as the carriage lurched forward.

He resisted looking at Leliana for some sort of cue. They were in Orlais now, and the Game was afoot. “We have no way of knowing how the Maker will use our successes and failures to his purposes,” Theo said with a pleasant smile. His stock answer for everything.

“Your Grace, perhaps you will share with us your brother’s hopes for the peace talks?” Josephine asked, turning the discussion to Orlesian politics, a topic that left Theo to simply listen and nod and smile at the appropriate times.

“Cullen is leading the rest of our soldiers on the march from Skyhold,” Leliana murmured to him when they’d stopped for a rest break. “If the assassination is to be attempted, we want our people in place.”

Theo nodded. He glanced around. “How’s Bull?” he asked quietly.

Leliana shrugged. “He and the Chargers are scouting ahead, but I’d imagine they’re seeking out a tavern. He is taking the Storm Coast badly.”

Night had fallen when they finally arrived in Halamshiral, so Theo was unable to view the burned out remains of the city. Civil war had hit Orlais hard, but nowhere harder than this place. “I apologize for the condition of the city,” Florianne said as they disembarked from the carriage before an inn, one of the few establishments open in the city, and relatively untouched by the chaos. “We are not welcome within the Winter Palace at this time, so my brother purchased this inn for our comforts,” she said casually, as if anyone would do the same.

Servants, mostly elves, Theo noted, came rushing out to assist them with their things. Inside, hot meals were already prepared and waiting for them. Florianne did not join them for the meal, saying she was exhausted from her day’s work and the journey, so they ate without her. “I don’t trust her, but neither do I think her malicious,” Leliana said in a low voice, leaning in so only their core group could hear. Vivienne, meanwhile, was keeping the servants busy; at first Theo thought it was just her imperious mien, but then he realized that they were unable to listen into the conversation if Vivienne kept them occupied at this task or that.

Bull came back at some point; the Chargers were all heavily drunk, and Theo wondered what other tavern they’d found willing to cater to them. Bull however was still grim and sober. Theo tried catching his eye, but Bull ignored him. It stung a bit; the Iron Bull had been there with Theo since very early on, and he’d given him advice about leadership. _What happened to ‘dealings before feelings’?_ Theo wondered as he watched Bull lounge about in a cloud of his own melancholy.

“Don’t consider it so deeply,” Dorian said when Theo finally joined him in bed. He still looked a bit pale and drawn, but snuggled into Theo’s arms when Theo reached for him. It was comforting to have Dorian against him. “Everything he held to be true turned out to be wrong. It’s disconcerting to realize that your place in the world is not quite what you’d thought.”

“Are you saying you identify with Bull?” Theo teased.

“Actually I am,” Dorian said. “My father insisted over and over again that he would never stoop to blood magic. And then he did. He called it his ‘last resort’. It was a terrible betrayal,” he said quietly. “We had our differences, but I sincerely believed him. A bit naïve on my part, but it was a lesson I needed to learn. Perhaps it’s a lesson the Bull needs to learn as well,” Dorian suggested.

Theo was just starting to accept his place in the world; he had gone so long without one that it was hard to comprehend what Dorian had gone through, and what Bull was going through.

“Don’t look like that,” Dorian said, caressing Theo’s hand. “Rest. It’s our first night in a proper bed in nearly a fortnight. And I could cast a silencing spell…”

“Have I told you I love you?” Theo asked with a grin. 

 

* * *

 

“Why won’t Bull talk to me?” Theo had managed to corner Krem in the common room of the tavern during breakfast. If anyone would know why, it was Krem.

Krem sighed and ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “Do you know how hungover I am?” he asked at last. “Maker’s balls, I’m lucky I’m able to stand this morning.”

Theo sighed. “Look. I need to know if it was something I did. Or didn’t do.”

Krem shoveled a forkful of bacon into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “The Chief hasn’t really said much to me, to be honest. I wish he would. He went Tal-Vashoth for us.” He prodded at a pile of eggs and looked disgusted. “I don’t know what to think about that. I’m grateful, but… shit. Tal-Vashoth. That’s big.”

Theo nodded. “Thanks,” he said and headed for the stairs. But Josephine was on her way down, and she had that smile that clearly said she needed to talk and it would not be pleasant. He sighed; he couldn’t avoid the inevitable forever, so he took a seat at another table and waved her over.

“Leliana told me what transpired on the Storm Coast,” she began. “I regret not going and being able to speak with Bull and this Gatt myself.”

Theo sighed. “Bull had made up his mind from the beginning,” he said.

“If you’d brought more troops…”

He could see her calculating the numbers, probably going off of what Leliana had reported. “But we didn’t bring more troops; this was supposed to be an in and out mission. We had no way of knowing how things would turn,” he said.

“We needed that alliance,” Josephine said.

Theo rubbed his eyes and tried not to scream. “Why? What would it have accomplished, aside from us being able to say we allied with the Qunari? Is this really a question of what we _needed_ , or about the prestige we _wanted_?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You were in command.”

“No, I wasn’t. This was a Ben-Hassrath mission. We _hired_ Bull and the Chargers, remember?” he snapped. “They weren’t volunteer soldiers. They work for us, but they can leave any time the terms and pay aren’t to their liking.”

“Fine. We _hired_ a Ben-Hassrath agent and his mercenaries,” Josephine said. “If he’s now considered Tal-Vashoth, he’s no longer Ben-Hassrath. Looks like the terms have changed.”

Theo shoved his chair back. “If you’re unhappy with what Bull’s done for the Inquisition, and you doubt his loyalty or ability to keep serving, then _you_ fire him,” he snapped. He stormed up the stairs to his room and slammed the door. Dorian was still in bed, sipping tea and nursing his residual sickness. Theo flopped down and buried his head under the pillow and shouted into it. Then he lay there for a bit, head still under the pillow until Dorian lifted a corner.

“Feel better?” he asked sardonically.

“Not really,” Theo grumbled. “You?”

Dorian shook his head. “Oddly, no. I hope you don’t think I’m a dreadful bore?”

Theo shook his head. He sighed. “I know the Storm Coast got fucked up. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Dorian chuckled. “You really must give up this self-flagellating guilt complex of yours,” he said, and Theo glared at him. “I’m serious. You drag yourself through the mud over things you can’t control. You are the Inquisitor, but you’re still human.”

Theo sighed and sat up. “Try telling that to any number of the people disappointed with me right now,” he grumbled. “They weren’t there; there was no right choice. Either way we were going to lose people.”

“That’s war,” Dorian said simply. He rubbed Theo’s shoulders, massaging the knots of tension that seemed to have taken up permanent residence. “You can’t bear the brunt of this, and you can’t feel guilty because the Bull is feeling guilty. It solves nothing.”

Theo slumped back into Dorian, who grunted slightly. He craned his neck around to look up at Dorian, and smiled. “You’re right. As usual. I’m not sure what I’d do without you around.”

“Probably wither away from loneliness,” Dorian said, and they both laughed. 

* * *

 

The tavern was a powder keg of emotions; Josephine paced and glared, and Leliana lurked in the shadows reading letters and writing notes to send out. Even she and Josephine weren’t talking. By late afternoon Theo could hardly stand it anymore. He tugged a cloak on and ducked out a back door by the stable. The outside air was refreshing, and he hadn’t realized how stuffy the inn was. Besides, he wanted to see Halamshiral by daylight. News of the city burning had reached the Free Marches when he still called Ostwick home. The elves in nearby city states had been confused: rise and rebel in retribution, or understand it as a warning?

Of course the nobles had their reasons for doing it. Everyone had a reason for everything, when it came down to it. But so many had died, innocent as well as guilty, and for what? For an Empress to keep her throne, only to have it nearly stolen from under her?

In a way, Corypheus was a preferable enemy, Theo mused. At least he had one objective, and there were no games involved. The only guessing was wondering where he would strike next. Even then it was growing easier to deal with, as the Inquisition’s reach grew ever longer and stronger. If they could just root out Celene’s would-be assassin before the ball they would strike yet another blow to the enemy.

Theo walked the streets of the city with his hood up. He felt eyes on him with each step he took, but whenever he turned to look, he saw no one. He’d tried to grab the shoddiest cloak he could find, but even that was finery by the standards of the struggling city. Gradually he came to a more burned out section of the city, and thought he may have reached an unspoken boundary. He felt the glares as he stared down a street lined with charred buildings. He took a deep breath and walked down it.

He happened upon several elves there. They lounged in doorways and glared suspiciously, or huddled away from him when he passed. “Fucking shem,” someone muttered, and Theo found it hard to be offended, being in their territory as he was.

“You lost, shem?” a female elf called. She had long brown hair that blew in the wind and narrowed, suspicious brown eyes. She wore a ragged apron with a dishrag tucked in at her waist. Theo looked up at the burned sign over her head. Another tavern.

He shrugged. “Not anymore. You got ale?”

She glared at him. “Not if you’re only trying to patronize me.”

“I just want a drink,” he said evenly. “I have coin.”

She appraised him. “I can see that.” She sighed. “You won’t be the first oddity I’ve seen all day. Come on in before the Qunari drinks every last keg we have.”

Theo wasn’t sure if he felt nervous or elated that the Iron Bull was here. It would be a chance to try talking about what had happened, away from the prying eyes and ears of their companions. But he wasn’t sure that Bull _wanted_ to talk. The elf girl was leading Theo inside the dim tavern now, and he knew it would be rude to turn back so he swallowed his pride and followed her.

Bull was lounging, taking up an entire corner just by himself. The few other patrons and servants gave him a wide berth, and he seemed to enjoy it. The elf girl, however, sauntered right up to him and perched on his knee. “Found you a friend,” she said, reclining against his chest.

“You know each other?” Theo asked. He’d seen Bull flirt with the tavern girls back at Skyhold… and in any city or town they were in. But it was always casual; this seemed deeper somehow.

“I was stationed here in Orlais when I started the Chargers,” Bull explained. “Met Eris here, but haven’t seen her since I joined up with the Inquisition.” Theo stood before him awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Bull seemed more cheerful than he had since the Storm Coast. Maybe it was Eris, maybe it was all the alcohol. Bull sighed. “Take a seat.”

Eris got up to get Theo a drink; when she brought it back and set it down, she returned to the counter to allow them a chance to talk. “Why did Gatt keep calling you Hissrad?” Theo asked after a moment of tense silence.

“It means illusionist. Or more essentially… liar,” Bull said. He sighed. “My old Tamassran would shit herself if she found out that one of her kids went Tal-Va-fucking-shoth,” he said at last, taking one of the shots lined up on the table in front of him.

“You weren’t exactly following the Qun to the letter before all of this,” Theo pointed out, sipping at the weak and bitter ale.

“That’s not the point,” Bull said, glowering at him with his single eye. “The Qun… it gave a me place and a purpose. Without the Qun I don’t know what I have anymore.”

“Because the Inquisition didn’t give you any of that either?” Theo snapped. “You told me when we met that you wanted to join the Inquisition because you thought we did good work. Was that just another one of your illusions?”

Bull swore and downed another shot. “You wouldn’t get it.”

Theo nodded. “You’re right. I have _no_ idea what it means to have no place or purpose in this world. No non-Qunari could possibly get it.” He was on a roll today; first Josephine, and now the Bull. The Inquisition was going insane. He wished they’d never heard of the red lyrium smuggling to begin with.   He downed the rest of his ale; it was bitter and hit his stomach hard. He dropped a small bag of coins on the table and got up. “Enjoy wallowing, Bull,” Theo said and headed for the door.

“You forgot your cloak,” Eris called after him.

Theo shook his head. “Give it to someone who needs it,” he told her. “And the coin on the table… take it. Keep it, hand it out, whatever you need to do.” He headed out the door. Dusk was falling and several elves were out in the streets watching him. He glanced back; Eris was in the doorway, and he saw her shake her head ever so slightly.

He found his way back to the less destroyed section of the city. “Inquisitor? A word?” He jumped, startled by Florianne melting out of the shadows with two de Chalons guards lurking behind her.

“Your Grace. You startled me,” he said with a smile even as his heart pounded. He was irritated; he’d been so angry with Bull and Josephine and the whole situation in Halamshiral that he was unaware of his surroundings. “Do you make it a habit to wander the streets of the city at dusk?”

“Not always, but it was of utmost importance that I speak with you alone,” she said. “You keep impressive company, but my words are for you alone.” She glanced around and dropped her voice. “I fear there is a plot afoot to assassinate the Empress at the ball.”

Theo nodded. “You’ve confirmed what we suspect as well,” he confessed.

Florianne’s eyes were worried beneath her mask. “While she was not officially invited to the peace talks, Empress Celene’s former lover, Briala, has made little secret of her intentions to be present. She and the other elves of Halamshiral have much reason to see her dead.”

From Theo’s limited experience the elves of Halamshiral were tired and wary, but he supposed that, given enough motivation, anyone could feel the need to act aggressively. “Have you made the Empress’s security aware of this?” he asked. “While I appreciate your confidence, it’s not necessarily my place to get involved in this manner.”

Florianne opened her mouth to speak, but there were heavy footfalls behind them. Theo spun around, but it was only Bull. “Grand Duchess, may I present The Iron Bull?” Theo said, remembering his manners, though he was still irritated with Bull.

Florianne nodded politely and Bull just tilted his chin at her in acknowledgement. “Boss.   I’ve been an ass.”

“That’s an understatement,” Theo said, but he fought to hide a smile and reveal just how relieved he was that Bull was actually speaking to him again.

Bull sighed. “It’s not something I ever expected, you know? I…” His voice trailed off and he tensed. Theo started to ask him something, but Bull waved his hand for silence. Then he wheeled around just as the first knife-wielding man leapt from the shadows, growling something in Qunlat.

More emerged. Florianne screamed. Bull shouted for them to run and Theo didn’t question it. He unceremoniously grabbed Florianne’s arm and took off. She fumbled to pick up her skirts, but they’d only made it down one alley when she tripped and sprawled over the dirty ground. Theo swore under his breath and helped her up, but by then shadowy figures were closing in. The waning light of day made them hard to discern. His left hand tingled strangely; he rarely thought of his mark anymore, and yet it had picked one of the worst times to act up.

He held up his glowing hand. “Stand down,” he ordered. “I am the Inquisitor, and this is the Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons.” Next to him Florianne had slipped a wicked and tiny dagger from her sleeve and brandished it.

Their assailants laughed. “This is no place for nobles,” one said, grabbing at Florianne. She slashed at his arm. He swore and before she could act again he pulled back and hit her in the face. She crumpled to the ground.

Theo knew that custom dictated that he should defend Florianne; but with what? He’d gone out walking without his bow; even if he had it the quarters were too close to get any good shot. He had a knife, but they’d see him go for it. All he had was his mark, but oddly, the band didn’t seem intimidated by the supernatural green glow. He glanced around and spotted an opening in the group of shrouded men. He reached for Florianne’s hand and helped her to her feet.

“If you’d like coin I can procure it for you,” he said evenly. “What’s happened in this city is terrible, and we can work on getting resources to help rebuild.”

“That’s what they all promise,” another man said. “We’re tired of pretty talk.”

Theo didn’t think. He grabbed Florianne’s arm and flung her at the break in the wall of attackers. She scooped up her skirts this time and ran ahead. Theo followed, keeping the end of the alley in sight, when yet another shadowy figure stepped out from an alcove and blocked his path. The man said nothing and Theo didn’t have a chance to fight him, nor to turn and see his pursuers before a searing pain shot through the back of his head. A white flash blinded him and he thought his eyeballs were going to pop right out of their sockets, while his teeth rattled in his jaws. His breath caught in his throat as he slumped forward and then hit the ground.


	26. Wicked Game

_Chapter 26: Wicked Game_

Florianne’s mask was scuffed and a bruise was forming around one eye beneath it; her makeup had run down in smudged rivulets at the edges of her mask, and yet she refused to take it off. “I am still the Grand Duchess,” she said and hiccupped around her tears. “I have been harassed, but I still have my dignity.”

Dorian, however, did not care one bit about her dignity. “Where is the Inquisitor?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “I know him well. He’s a gentleman and would never leave such a lady as yourself alone in the streets of this city—especially not after such an attack.”

Florianne looked up. Her lip trembled and she pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, scandalously exposed by a torn seam sustained in the attack. “He told me to run,” she said with a shudder. “There was nothing I could do, we were outnumbered.”

“By whom?” Leliana asked. She melted out of the shadows. Her sudden appearance startled Florianne.

Bull grunted. “Whoever did it waited until those fucking assassins came after me. They’re smart, whoever they are.” He swore loudly as Vivienne prodded at one of his knife wounds.

“Hold still. It may be poisoned,” she ordered.

“Oh I know it is,” he snapped back. “I’ve been dosing myself with the antidote since we got on the boat. Still hurts like a bitch, though.”

“I think it was elves,” Florianne said at last. “We were two obvious nobles walking the streets; it hasn’t been long since the city was ransacked. Whispers of vengeance are in the air.”

“Boss was walking in the elven quarter earlier without a problem,” Bull said.

Theo wouldn’t have been taken by elves; if anything, he’d have asked them to go have a drink, Dorian thought. He’d have apologized for a misunderstanding and promised to make it right. Besides, the elves were (albeit an unspoken) part of the peace negotiations happening later this week. He opened his mouth but Leliana flashed him a silencing look. He nodded concession. All they could do was wait, and that was something Dorian had never been good at.

* * *

_“Kill him and take his marked hand. It will be a fitting gift for our master.”_

A voice, garbled and hard to discern over the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. He may have heard it before. Nothing was certain.

Then blessed silence and darkness.

Theo didn’t get seasick, but if he did this was probably what it felt like. Every time he tried to open his eyes the room moved. It didn’t spin, the way it did when he was stupid-drunk and Dorian had to help him back to his room. It tilted like the deck of a ship in a storm and he couldn’t reach out to grab anything to hold onto. His stomach twisted and heaved and he squeezed his eyes closed again.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the room stopped tilting and his stomach stopped roiling. His skull threatened to split open from the throbbing pain, but he could open his eyes without wanting to die. It helped that the room was quite dim, aside from the sickly green glow coming from his left hand. He flexed his fingers and tried to move but he couldn’t.

The pain made it impossible to panic. He picked up his head and blinked a few times, then squinted to focus better. He was surrounded by masked figures, made all the more terrifying by the glow of his marked hand. He tried to speak; his tongue felt swollen and his mouth tasted… well, unlike anything he cared to define.

“He wakes,” one of the figures hissed and Theo tried to turn his head in that direction, but it made him nauseous all over again. Someone put a cup to his lips and helped him drink tepid water. He drank greedily, as if dying of dehydration, but the cup was pulled away and the rest of the water dribbled out of his mouth and down his chest. His head pitched forward again, and he noted that along with the water, there was blood; he’d also vomited on himself at some point. But more worrisome was that along with the blood and vomit, coils of rope wound around his chest and torso, holding him firmly in place.

This was either the worst hangover he’d ever had, or he was in serious trouble.

A thin thread of magic snaked into his mind and at first he jerked his head to the side as if he could escape it. But the magic was insistent and it soothed his throbbing skull to the point that he could open his eyes and hold his head up steadily. Magic crackled around the room and his palm, outstretched before him, flared and sent a sharp pain up his arm that he hadn’t felt since Haven. There was a collective gasp; all the masked figures, at least a dozen of them, stared and waited, but when the flare died down they relaxed. The ghostly glow of pale blue magelight filled the room.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” one said, stepping forward and bowing in mock salute. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Theo squinted up at the man, who wore an elaborately carved mask with gilded horns. He was clad in a mustard yellow tunic accented with deep blood red markings. Theo sifted through his wrecked mind, trying to remember where he’d seen such things before. “You’ve met many of our people before… and killed them as well,” he said.

Masks. Last Theo recalled they were in Orlais, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary. But he’d seen the horns before. And the red and gold livery.

“Many of our people who’ve met you speak in awe of what you’ve done,” the man said, sitting down across from him. “As if you’re a god among them.” He snorted derisively. “But now… you’re just a man. A young, inexperienced man who knows nothing of this world, or the world beyond.” The other masked figures tittered with nervous giggles. “Enough,” he said, waving his hand, and the laughter ceased. “Our Master has promised to make us more than men.”

Theo’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach clenched. He now recalled where he’d seen the masks before: it was long ago, but it was also in a future that never happened, in a world of green light and red lyrium.

Every time he’d engaged the Venatori he’d had the support and firepower of others, whether it was Cullen’s army or Dorian’s magic, or Bull’s maul. Even in the nightmare future, that now felt more like a figment of a dream he may or may not have ever had, he’d had help. But now he was alone. He was bound to a chair and his marked hand was stretched out in front of him, shackled and bolted to a table. And he was surrounded by at least a dozen Venatori; he had no way of knowing where he was or if there were any others in the shadows beyond.

He swallowed. “What…” he began, but ‘what do you want’ was a pretty stupid question, all things considered. He settled for, “Where are we?”

“It’s not important. Especially since this petty place will be destroyed once the Elder One’s plans come to fruition.”

Theo shifted, trying to test his restraints. The cords holding his torso to the chair were secure, and the cords around his other wrist were tight enough to make his fingers tingle. His ankles were secured as well, and even if he could free himself, what would he do? He didn’t have a bow and he was surrounded by mages—mages who likely practiced blood magic.

“What plans are those?” Theo asked.

The Venatori seated in front of him peered down at Theo’s hand. He produced a curved knife and Theo instinctively tried to draw back, but the man instead sliced open his own hand and let it hover over Theo’s mark.

Pain shot up Theo’s arm as the blood dripped onto his palm, but the mark crackled and a pulse of light and magic shoved the Venatori mage backward against the wall.

“I told you it was useless, Brabantio; the Master tried already,” another Venatori said. The interrogator managed to get to his feet, clearly shaken; Theo could tell that much, even behind his mask.

“We _will_ return the Elder One’s magic to him,” Brabantio snarled, waving his hand at the other man. A gout of flame sprung from his bleeding palm and engulfed his opponent. Theo squeezed his eyes closed and wished he could cover his ears to drown out the screams and sounds of burning skin. The reek of burning hair and cooking flesh made him retch, but his stomach was empty.

“That could be you, Inquisitor,” Brabantio said, sitting down across the table from Theo once more.

“So that’s what you want? My magic?” Theo managed to ask. “If I could give it to you, I would; it’s caused me more trouble than it’s worth.” He tried to sound nonchalant and cooperative: two things he was not even remotely feeling at the moment. The smell of crisped human flesh was still strong in the air and he did not doubt that this Venatori meant it when he said that Theo would be next. He had to buy time… time for what, though? No one would know where he was, or how to find him, assuming anyone realized he was actually missing. The thought was bitterer than the acrid char smell in the air. Everyone had been so focused on their own personal failings, himself included, that now all he could do was hope his luck held out one more time.

“Oh, you will give me your magic,” the man said. “Even if it means cutting off your hand and leaving you to bleed to death.” He stood and moved around the table, to Theo’s side. He rolled Theo’s sleeve back and held up his knife, still red with blood. “But first, a little payback for an old friend. I believe you remember Livius Eremond.”

* * *

“I would have been insulted if they _didn’t_ send anyone,” Bull was telling Leliana and Josephine, as he swatted away Madam de Fer and her offer to heal the poisoned knife wounds the now-dead assassins had left. “It’s their way of saying that now I’m really Tal-Vashoth, as if I wasn’t going to know that,” he said. “What pisses me off more is that assholes used it as a cover to get at the Boss.”

Dorian clenched his jaw and tried to quell the anger and worry swirling like a storm inside of him. Ever since Florianne had come back bruised and sobbing and worst of all, alone, he’d felt himself losing control; only years of careful training held him together and kept him from releasing all of his emotions in a burst of magic that could very well level this whole section of Halamshiral.

Bull stood and turned to stare at Dorian with his single eye. “Hey. I was fighting off Qunari assassins. Why didn’t _you_ do anything? Where were _you_?” He snapped and took a step forward.

Dorian held up his hand and a ball of crackling lightning coalesced in his palm. “Come any closer to me, and I _will_ release this in your face,” he said in a tightly controlled voice. “And if Theodane is indeed dead, I will do it anyway.”

“If you live long enough,” Bull snarled. “You say you love him? Where were you?”

Everyone stared at Dorian, who struggled to answer that question himself. Guilt crashed into anger and made him feel ill. He’d been upstairs in bed, still resting from the lingering sickness that plagued him. It was worse than any other time he’d sailed; all he could do was lie in bed and sip the weak tea a serving girl brought him. And of course he had to feel better now, when it was too late. He kept staring at Bull, eight feet of muscle and scar tissue and anger that would crush him in an instant; only sheer will kept Dorian from throwing the lightning at him with every last mana reserve he possessed.

Vivienne stepped between them. “My dears,” she began. “I hardly see what any of this shouting will accomplish. I was led to believe that the Inquisition was civilized.” She glanced between Dorian and Bull. Bull was still breathing heavily, but he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Dorian waved his hand and the lightning disappeared, though he kept glaring at Bull. “We can argue until sunrise about who may or may not be at fault, but that will not save the Inquisitor,” she said at last. She gestured to the chairs scattered around the room. “Please. Let’s sit and discuss this like rational individuals.”

Dorian had to give her credit for so easily diffusing the immediate tension; and also Josephine, for gracefully standing down and allowing Vivienne to handle the situation. And really, Vivienne was probably the best suited for this as she didn’t know anyone very well yet, and had not been involved in anything that had led to this.

Florianne again recounted what had happened. “It had to have been elves,” she insisted, wrinkling her nose and dabbing at her eyes under her now-scuffed mask. “It was foolish of my brother to suggest we be housed here, and I shall have some strong words with him.”

“Unfortunately strong words will not bring our Inquisitor back,” Vivienne said, and only Dorian was able to detect the subtle change in tone she directed at Florianne.

“I have spies in this city,” Leliana said, glancing up. Her face was pale, eyes shadowed and jaw clenched. “I will send them out immediately, with orders to bring back _any_ information.”

 “That is a good start, Madam Spymaster,” Vivienne said. “Grand Duchess, I believe the evening’s events have been trying for you and it would be in your best interest to retire for the night.” She turned hard, cold gray eyes on the Grand Duchess. “I believe Gaspard’s men are available to escort you?”

Her tone brooked no argument, and after a moment of tense silence Florianne rose and curtsied gracefully in spite of her injuries. “Thank you for considering my pains, Madam Enchanter,” Florianne said stiffly. She turned, her dirtied skirts swishing, and exited.

“Dorian, dear, if you would?” Vivienne asked once the door had closed. Dorian wasn’t sure how she’d figured out his trademark spells, but he just nodded once and wove a web of muffling and secrecy that he cast over the doors, walls, and windows of the room. “I do not believe a word she says,” Vivienne said when he was finished. “The elves in this part of Halamshiral are wary; they wish to rebuild, and fear retribution from the nobility.”

“They especially would not attack the sister of Grand Duke Gaspard. It was Empress Celene who burned the city,” Josephine said. “Gaspard has never been a friend to the elves, but he did not set fire to their homes. We have another enemy.”

“Who else would want the Inquisitor dead?” Vivienne asked.

“Plenty of people,” Bull said.

“But none more than the Venatori,” Dorian said softly. He closed his eyes as his heart clenched in his chest and his stomach dropped. “This ball is the talk of the empire, and half of Thedas. If the Inquisition _wasn’t_ here it would be political suicide for Orlais. We haven’t been secretive about our movements,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and tried to tell himself that the warm prickling feeling there was from being overtired. But in his mind he saw Theo’s earnest green eyes, remembered that first shy non-kiss, the tentative brush of his calloused fingers on Dorian’s cheek. The lump in his throat was made out of broken glass.

“We dealt a significant blow to Corypheus at Adamant,” Leliana said. “We were foolish not to expect retribution.”

“Regret isn’t going to change this,” Bull said quietly. “Fuck it, regret started all of this. I’ll get Krem and the boys out looking with your people.”

“What do we do?” Dorian asked. His voice was hoarse and he tried to tell himself it wasn’t from the desperate need to scream that was building in his chest. _What do I do?_

“We wait here for more information,” Vivienne said decisively. Dorian stared at her, mouth hanging open. “Do shut your mouth, dear; it’s most unbecoming on one so handsome,” she said lightly. “We can do no good all scattering about.” She surprised Dorian with a hand on his arm. “Go. Rest, collect yourself. As soon as any news returns you will be the first to know.”

Dorian headed back up to the room; but where he’d early on found comfort and relaxation, he now only noted the emptiness. The spacious bed was too large, and Theo’s clothing, left in a pile by the bed, only made him want to hit something. Or someone.

A sharp rap sounded on the door and he wiped his tears away quickly before opening it. “Madam de Fer,” he said, pleased at how even he was able to keep his voice. “I’m probably wrong to hope that you’ve already received news.”

Vivienne entered and closed the door behind her. “Leliana’s people are good, but not quite _that_ good, I’m afraid,” she said. She gave Dorian another one of her looks, and he sighed before weaving another privacy web.

“How do you know I’m able to do that?” he asked, curiosity winning out for one minute.

She smiled ever so slightly. “My dear, last night was the first night in weeks you and your love were in a proper bed, and yet no one heard a thing. I, however, could hear the Iron Bull snoring two rooms away.” It had been a long time since anyone had made Dorian blush, and he had to give Vivienne credit. “Rest assured I do not pass any judgment. While I know we have differing opinions on Circles, you at least have an excellent sense of taste and style, so I daresay you are good for the boy,” she said and for a moment her gaze was almost warm. “You’re concerned,” she said at last.

He sighed. “My only complaint about him is that he makes it nearly impossible to keep my emotions in check.”

Vivienne nodded. “He will need you when this is through,” she said. “For those of us who value survival, sentimentality is not an option.”

Dorian knew as much to be true; one did not grow up in Tevinter society attaching importance, or worst of all, love, to anything or anyone truly important. It was a surefire way of attracting one’s downfall. But this wasn’t Tevinter, he was very much in love, and it was impossible not to worry.

 

* * *

 

Theo’s forearm was covered with shallow cuts that stung even as the first layer of blood crusted over them. He thought the fracture in his skull was the worst pain he’d ever felt, but that was before he’d been hit with a spell that made him feel every bone in his body was being crushed. He slumped in the ropes, his left arm trembling and his fingers twitching while the green light of his palm flickered wildly. Sweat soaked his hair and trickled down his back in a cold line. Every breath sent agony like knife blades through his chest.

“Did you enjoy debasing such a great Magister?” Brabantio asked. “Beheading him for all to see?”

Brabantio must have been at Adamant; his voice was strangled with the rage of someone who’d seen firsthand what Theo had done. “I could have… ordered him Tranquil,” Theo countered in a hoarse voice. “Isn’t that worse than death for mages?”

Brabantio grabbed a hunk of Theo’s hair and pulled his head back, holding the bloody knife to his throat. The blade stung as it trailed across his skin and more warm blood trickled down his neck and over his collarbone. “Eremond would never beg for death,” Brabantio said, releasing his grip. “But you? You may.”

Theo wanted to; he really did. “I’m the Inquisitor,” he instead said between clenched teeth. “I don’t beg for anything.” He wondered vaguely when he’d become so stubborn… or so stupid.

Brabantio’s mask hid his expression, but he was probably smiling. He dragged his knife over his own palm, which began to glow red. He reopened a cut on Theo’s forearm, digging the blade in more deeply. Theo bit his lip and tasted blood. Brabantio gripped Theo’s arm with his own bloody palm.

And then there was a roar in his ears and he was screaming. Someone jammed a wadded up cloth in his mouth, muffling the worst of it, but the pain was too intense for Theo to stop. Brabantio clutched at his bleeding arm, as if his blood were infusing the pain into Theo. It felt like his blood was boiling in his veins. “Beg, Inquisitor,” Brabantio shouted, fingers bruising Theo’s arm.

Waves of red and acid green light assaulted Theo’s vision and he couldn’t breathe but somehow he still kept screaming himself hoarse. He strained against the ropes, and when that did nothing he strained against his own skin. His marked hand pulsed violently and it felt like the shackle was searing into his wrist.

He wanted to die.

It took a long time for the pain to fade enough for him to realize that Brabantio was no longer clutching him. It took even longer to realize he was alone. The blood was congealing around his wounds and his limbs still trembled against the ropes. The cloth now secured in his mouth tasted like soot and blood. He could breathe again, but it was shaky and shallow and it still hurt, as if his broken ribs had shredded his lungs.

He stared at his glowing hand through a haze of pain. The light pulsed softly, reacting to residual magic in the room. He hated it. Hated what it meant, and that if he wasn’t so marked, he wouldn’t be going through this.

Exhaustion overcame him and he dozed, but the flash of his palm woke him suddenly and he gave a muffled gasp when he realized Brabantio and his Venatori contingent had returned. He tried to muster a defiant glare, but they would have to settle for wariness instead. “Our plans must be accelerated,” he told Theo, setting his knife, now with a clean and gleaming blade, on the table. “Apparently people _finally_ noticed their precious Inquisitor was missing, and all of Halamshiral is crawling with roaches looking for you.”

He reached out and trailed his fingertips over Theo’s sliced up forearm. The touch stung and Theo twisted his arm in a fruitless effort to get away. Brabantio reached to his side and slid a scimitar out of its sheath. It was a larger version of the curved knife he’d used for his blood magic. He let the blade hover over Theo’s arm. He turned and Theo saw his eyes, dark and malicious, through his mask. “You deprived us of Alexius and Eremond. But your marked hand will be a fitting remuneration for our master,” he said.

Theo had wished for death before, but now he was really going to die. Brabantio would take his severed hand to Corypheus and leave him here to bleed out in some burned out hovel somewhere in Halamshiral. The Inquisition would fail and Corphyeus would have his nightmare red-lyrium-green-sky future.

“After your death, the next to fall will be your Tevinter lover,” Brabantio said. The blade of his scimitar reflected the violent green glow. “He will be made to kneel before the Elder One and beg forgiveness for bringing such shame to the Imperium. The Elder One will have his head. Perhaps he’ll even put it in a place of honor next to your hand.” He laughed.

The fear of pain had been bad enough, but now the real, deep seated fear of death filled Theo with panic. He struggled and strained with everything he had. The ropes cut into his ankles and his other arm. His left wrist was rubbed raw and bloody and stung badly, but he tried to pull away as Brabantio lifted the scimitar overhead. He was screaming, begging unintelligibly. Tears rolled down his cheeks. The light of his palm glowed bright, filling the room and casting shadows on the masks.

Brabantio brought the sword down. Theo’s palm flared blindingly bright. A cloud of green crackling Fade energy exploded overhead. The wooden table splintered; Theo was thrown backward and the Venatori were screaming in panic. The green light was hungry and sucked at the Venatori, pulling them in piece by piece: a hand here, a foot there, patches of skin, pieces of bone.

And then darkness.


	27. In Your Heart Shall Burn

_Chapter 27: In Your Heart Shall Burn_

Leliana’s information pointed to the Chantry in the center of town, of all places. Leliana had still ordered other soldiers out to other locations, but Bull covered her and Dorian as they sneaked out into the dawn and headed for the Chantry. She looked up and shook her head in disgust. “It’s sheer arrogance for them to profane the Chantry in this way.” Then she sighed. “I don’t know what we’ll find, Dorian,” Leliana said quietly as they stood before the door.

“All the more reason for me to be here firsthand,” he said lightly, though his knuckles were white as he clutched his staff. _Why_ were they hesitating?

The heavy door was barred from the inside. Rather than wait for Leliana to scout another entrance, Bull heaved up his weapon and began hacking at the door. He struck it with a fury Dorian had rarely seen even in battle. They waited, sometimes holding their breath, for an attack from the inside, but one never came. Bull kicked in the last planks of the door and turned to Dorian. “You first,” he said simply.

Dorian took a deep breath. He felt sick, but he readied a spell in case of an attack. Inside the Chantry was dark and he felt the Fade strongly here. The air was heavy with magic, and his fingers twitched about his staff. At the edges of his vision he saw shadows and ghostly wisps. The Veil had been disturbed here, and there had been violent death. He reached out to the spirits that he knew so well. _Peace,_ he thought, waving his hand through the air, leaving a wake of Fade ripples behind. He closed his eyes and gathered his energy, opening himself up to the spirits. They harkened to him and he silently prayed for their peace, and began to feel the veil between the Fade grow more opaque.

He coughed and wrinkled his nose as they entered the main sanctuary. The globe atop his staff glowed blue-white, revealing everything around them. There were bodies on the floor: some in various states of dismemberment, others with skin and muscle peeled off as if flayed alive. A few of the slightly more intact bodies wore golden yellow and blood red robes.

Venatori, then. Dorian had been right, and his stomach turned. He assumed only another Venatori could do this level of damage, or perhaps they’d summoned a demon they couldn’t control. And if this had happened to trained Venatori mages…

A faint greenish light caught his eye and Dorian followed it like a beacon, his heart thumping in his chest and his mind praying to a Maker he still wasn’t sure he believed in.

Theo looked up as Dorian approached. He cradled his marked hand to his chest. He was covered in ash and blood and Maker knew what else; his eyes were hollow and glassy, and ringed by dark bruising. His lip was split and his face dirtied with sweat and tear tracks. Dorian dropped to his knees and pulled him close anyway. “ _Amatus,_ ” he whispered, heedless of the dirt and gore.

Theo winced with pain, but managed to wrap his arm around Dorian and hold him. “I’m getting blood on you,” he said. His voice was raw, as if his throat had been stripped bare and left bleeding. He was trying to smile, but the effort was too much and he slumped back again.

“They’re just clothes,” Dorian said, lightly kissing his forehead. Theo closed his eyes. His breath was shallow and whistled slightly in his chest. “What happened?” Dorian asked gently, trailing his thumb over Theo’s bruised jaw, even as he wished they’d thought to bring a healer. His mind ran in circles as he tried to piece together what had occurred, but none of it made sense. Clearly magic had killed the Venatori, yet Theo was no mage. But Theo _was_ looking down at his glowing hand.

“It saved me,” he murmured, guarding his arm against his chest. “I don’t know how. It just…” He shook his head and looked up at Dorian. “Get me out of here,” he whispered. “Please.”

* * *

Dorian was talented, but he’d never been a healer. He never really thought much about it, except times like these when it frustrated him to no end. He helped Theo strip out of his dirty, bloody clothes. His ribs were mottled in shades of purple and green, and the skin had been rubbed raw and blistered around his wrists. He was covered in smeared and dried blood and there was precious little Dorian could do to make any of it better.

Bull guarded the outside of the door while Dorian sealed and silenced the room. A servant had drawn a bath, and only when Theo had stiffly climbed into the tub did he seem to relax. Dorian pulled off his shirt and knelt next to the tub. He picked up the cloth and gently rubbed at Theo’s bloody arm. “Blood magic?” he asked at last, surveying the gashes there.

“Yeah.” Theo stared down at his wounds and he took in a shuddering breath. “It hurt so badly. I wanted to die,” he confessed. He looked away.

“I’m sure,” Dorian said, dabbing at Theo’s face and gently turning his chin to meet Theo’s gaze again. “I’m most relieved you didn’t. That may be an understatement, though.” He tried to smile.

“I couldn’t. I realized that I didn’t say goodbye,” Theo said, staring into his eyes. “You would never have forgiven me if I died. Isn’t that what you always say?” He blinked and a film of tears covered his eyes.

“None of that. We’re here now,” Dorian said, swallowing the lump in his throat and kissing Theo’s forehead. “And to think, your worst fear about coming to Halamshiral was having to dance,” he added, and earned a weak smile from Theo.

An hour later Vivienne came to assess Theo’s wounds and begin healing. “I would not have pegged you as such a talented healer, Madam Enchanter,” Dorian said. Theo squeezed his hand as Vivienne worked to shift his ribs back into place.

“It makes perfect sense, darling,” she said. “The nobility are constantly engaging in duels over petty issues. No one wants to appear at court bruised and beaten. For the right price I’m able to prevent that embarrassment for them.” She wrinkled her brow and focused again. Theo was already breathing more easily and looking more alert. He’d taken a few shots of Qunari liquor from Bull’s flask, which seemed to help.

Eventually she’d healed the worst of his injuries and his eyelids drooped. “The liquor will keep him comfortable, and I can have tea sent up,” she offered. “I’ll leave you be, but should he suddenly worsen, please send for me? Regardless of the time,” she said with a surprising warmth and kindness that Dorian had not expected from her.

It was afternoon and the sun shone warmly through the window, but Dorian was as tired as if it were the dead of night. When he woke shadows were falling. A cup of tea sat on the bedside table, and he felt vaguely irritated that he’d slept through someone entering their room while they slept; it was probably only Bull delivering the promised cup of tea, but after all that had transpired Dorian was wary. Theo was awake, staring at the ceiling. “Are you alright?” Dorian asked softly.

Theo glanced over at him. “No,” he said simply. “I’m scared.”

“Well now that we know Venatori are in the city—“

Theo shook his head. “Not of the Venatori. Of… myself. Of what I did with my mark. But mostly? I’m scared of my luck. It can’t last forever.” He held up his softly glowing hand and studied it in silence. “I want them all dead,” he said at last, decisively. “The Venatori. The red templars. Corypheus. All of them.”

Dorian cupped his cheek in his hand. He couldn’t admit that he too feared the day when Theo’s legendary luck ran out. “You’re still tired and healing. You should rest more.”

“No. I want them _all_ gone. I want the world back.”

He sounded like Leliana, when she’d killed Felix in the future. But what was disconcerting to Dorian was that this wasn’t the way Theo usually spoke. He regretted killing, even when it was the enemy. He did it out of necessity. Dorian wanted to believe that the haunted look in Theo’s eyes was the result of his ordeal and once he’d had time to rest, Dorian’s sweet, innocent Theo would return.

He sighed and sipped at the tea; it was cold, of course, but he drank it anyway. It hit his stomach hard, and made him feel a bit nauseous. A tingling feeling wound up his spine. “The first time I crossed the Nocen Sea I was violently seasick,” he said. “Still, it cleared up within a few hours of reaching land.”

Theo gave him a quizzical look. Dorian stared down into his cup; a small amount of liquid remained. He furrowed his brow as an unwelcome memory made its way to the forefront of his mind. He waved a hand over the cup, and the contents shimmered faint blue. “ _Fasta vass,”_ he growled and threw the cup at the wall, where it shattered. “Magebane,” Dorian said, curling his lip in disgust. “Not enough to badly affect my magic, but just enough to make me feel ill.”

“Someone’s been drugging you to keep you away from me,” Theo said softly. “If you’d been there last night, you’d have taken them all out. There’d have been no question of a fight.”

“And I would have been there if I hadn’t been sick,” Dorian finished. “Where are you going?” Theo swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, leaning on the wall with his head down for a moment. He walked stiffly, but with purpose, to the door.

He cracked the door ajar. “Bull. Get Leliana and round up the servants downstairs, and make certain you get whoever delivered Dorian’s tea,” he said. He turned and stumbled back to the bed, and Dorian caught him. “Bull’s Tal-Vashoth now, but he still knows how to interrogate like a Ben-Hassrath,” Theo said grimly.

A chill went up Dorian’s spine. He’d seen Bull work before. And now Theo wanted him to do it again. He almost felt bad for whoever had poisoned him. Almost.

* * *

Theo wanted nothing more than to sleep for days and wake up back in Skyhold, in his spacious and comfortable bed with Dorian beside him, and everything that had just happened nothing more than a bad dream. But the vivid bruises, throbbing gashes, and constant, all over aches were very real. Still, Theo could not mire himself in regrets. All he could do now was move forward and seek out his enemy with renewed fervor.

Starting with the staff of the inn.

As angry as Theo was, he’d asked Bull to hold off on his more intensive questioning techniques. Putting Bull and Leliana together was enough to intimidate most people, and the line of elves before them looked suitably nervous. Theo didn’t know what he was looking for, but he wanted to be there. To see who’d sold him out, who’d willingly poisoned Dorian to keep them apart.

“Will they talk?” he’d asked Leliana.

“It depends on how deeply they are involved,” she said with a sidelong glance at him. He was grateful that there was no pity in her light blue eyes. He wasn’t sure he could handle pity. “Are you certain you want to be here? I’ve seen Bull work before. He is… effective.”

Even a week ago Theo probably would have said no and laughed nervously. Back at Griffon Wing Keep he’d been uncomfortable at the thought of the things Bull did to people to get the answers he wanted. But Theo now knew firsthand the lengths the enemy would go to in order to get what they wanted, and it made it hard to feel guilty or uncomfortable.

Most of the servants were nervous and cowed and answered questions honestly—at least, according to the subtle nods that Bull gave Leliana. Theo sat and watched in spite of the dull throbbing starting in his skull. He resisted the urge to scratch at the warm itching on his cut up arm. Some sense of grim determination made him stay.

“Magebane isn’t an easy substance to get hold of, especially in these parts,” Bull said. “And doses must be very carefully regulated to produce the effects the Magister suffered. One of you either knows how to use magebane, which isn’t exactly a standard kitchen skill; or you were given very specific instructions, and you will tell us before you leave this room.” He glowered down the line.

“We only want to get to the heart of what happened to the Inquisitor, so we might prevent such a mishap again,” Leliana said in her calm, dulcet tones. Theo recognized that she was playing the good side of the coin, the way she had when she and Cassandra first interrogated him in Haven. “I can assure you we mean no harm.”

“I prepared the tea,” a young elven girl said tentatively. Bull looked up sharply, frowning. “But I would swear by the Maker that I prepared it as I always do!” She had tears in her eyes and her lip trembled. “I was just grateful to be hired. There’s no work for elves.”

Many of the others murmured in agreement, daring furtive, scared glances up at Bull and Leliana. “So you’d take any job? Even if it meant poisoning a Magister?” Bull asked. They all nodded and Bull crossed his arms over his chest and heaved a sigh.

“What’s your name?” Leliana asked one girl suddenly. She had short dark hair that showed off her pointed ears, and big dark eyes. She hadn’t seemed quite as cowed as the others, though that might have been owing to her beauty.

“Ayla,” she said, glancing at the ground.

“You seemed a bit perplexed when the Iron Bull made mention of a Magister; you weren’t aware of the Tevinter mage traveling with us?” Leliana asked.

“I… was not aware he was a Magister,” Ayla said, blushing. “I’ve heard tales of their greatness—“

“She asked to serve his tea,” a young man said suddenly. “I was trying to organize the work rosters and she asked to serve tea to the rooms. I was so busy I didn’t think anything of it. I thought her name was Elisa, though,” he said with a furrowed brow.

“Not all mages from Tevinter are Magisters,” Bull said. “Though most people outside of the Imperium equate the two terms. You hesitated. You know the difference.”

Ayla, or Elisa, looked suddenly terrified. She fumbled for words, but Theo stood and stepped in front of her. He was quite a bit taller, and she had to look up at him. She had trouble meeting his eyes, but he still stared down at her. “Bull, Leliana, let the others go,” he said. “As for her…” He tried to see her youth and desperation. He tried to feel pity for her and find something akin to forgiveness, but he was empty. “I hope it was worth it,” he said to her quietly. He looked up again. “Execute her.”

Ayla gasped. “The spy—the woman said you meant no harm!”

“We didn’t, for those who were innocent,” Leliana said in a hard voice Theo rarely heard. “This is your wish, Inquisitor?”

“Yes.” He turned his back on the now-crying elf and headed back upstairs, deaf to her pleas.

* * *

Theo could have used another few days of rest, but the ball was rapidly approaching and his newfound angry conviction gave him a surge of energy that startled everyone to attention. The next afternoon he headed down to the common room and called a war council. He sat at the head of a long table. He was still in pain, more than he thought possible; but the expression on his face prevented anyone from taking argument with his orders.

He ordered all the servants out, and Dorian magically secured the room before taking a seat at Theo’s right hand. Cullen had arrived early that morning and was still sweaty with the dust of the road clinging to him; Cassandra and Varric accompanied him. Solas had traveled to the Dales to investigate some elven ruins. Theo was disappointed; he had more questions than ever about his mark, and how it had somehow saved him at the last moment.

Everyone sat in attendance and Theo surveyed the gathering: his followers, and his friends. He’d thought on what needed to be said as he stared at the dark ceiling the night before, unable to sleep for fear of nightmares and haunted memories. “No more regrets,” he began. “From here on out, the Inquisition moves forward. We only look to past mistakes to learn what to do to improve, not to wish things had gone differently.” He glanced at each person in turn, but they all looked away, chagrined. “We communicate. You have a problem with me? Or anyone else? You voice it. We don’t let things fester anymore.”

Josephine glanced at him guiltily. “I am sorry, for my part,” she said.

He shook his head. “No apologies. I’m as guilty as anyone,” he said, clenching his left hand tightly. That may have been the hardest part of all of this: admitting his own role. “But that’s the other thing. I can’t keep feeling guilty for everything that happens. I’m one person and I can’t be all things to all people. Trying almost killed me,” he said.

There was a guilty, uncomfortable silence. “We need to reexamine our priorities,” he said. “We are the most prominent political and military force in all of Thedas now. So how much _more_ prominent do we need to be?”

“What do you propose we do?” Cassandra asked. She kept her voice calm, though she was tense in her seat.

“It’s time to focus on the enemy. We were distracted by other things. Unimportant things, in the grand scheme of things,” Theo said, shaking his head. “We took our eyes off the enemy, and when we did, they struck and I almost died. I got lucky. Again,” he said grimly. “If anything it showed me firsthand what they can and will do if we fail, and I won’t let that happen. Neither will any of you.” He let out his breath and leaned back in his chair, looking around and daring people to defy him.

“The ball is tomorrow night,” Leliana said at last. “Will you be well enough to attend?”

He didn’t feel it. There was lingering spell damage to his injuries that made healing a painful process. He was drinking as many potions a day as Vivienne would allow and still he felt terrible. He shrugged. “I’m going to have to be. Whoever got the Venatori involved was expecting that I would be dead by the ball, clearing the way for Celene’s assassination. The _last_ thing I should be doing is avoiding it.”

“The Grand Duchess suggested it was elves that initially attacked you,” Bull said. “Eris says Briala will be at the ball and has been smuggling her people onto the palace grounds for weeks.”

Theo shook his head. “This Briala is just an unfortunate scapegoat who happens to be in the right place at the right time for whoever else is orchestrating this. Either way, now we know the Venatori are involved, so we’ll need to be on the lookout for magic.”

“And here I thought you were bringing me along for my good looks and charming company,” Dorian said, which finally lightened the mood.

Theo smiled and rested a hand on his knee under the table. Dorian was warm and solid, a constant in this ever-changing world. “Whatever we were before, we’re the Inquisition now,” he said with a nod to Cassandra, recalling her words at Haven when this had all started. “We have enough enemies out there. The last thing we need is to make enemies of one another.”


	28. Danse Macabre

_Chapter 28: Danse Macabre_

The morning had been a flurry of activity. Leliana had worked her magic and gotten Eris into the Winter Palace not only as another pair of eyes and ears, but also to serve the Inquisition safe food and drink. After what had happened to Dorian, Theo didn’t trust anybody that Leliana or Josephine had not handpicked.

But there were other concerns as well; there always were. Vivienne may have been the official Court Enchanter to Empress Celene, but she had concerns about yet another mage at court: a dark beauty with extensive knowledge of the occult, a lifelong apostate, whereas Vivienne had been a lifelong Circle mage. Theo knew from Josephine’s tutelage that Celene was fascinated by the occult and figured that, at the rate Orlais was going, he probably would have turned to any source of help and information he could find too.

The way Vivienne spoke about Morrigan the apostate, she made it sound as if the woman was inherently untrustworthy, and possibly evil. Theo, having seen evil mages up close and personal, was inclined to believe it was her wounded pride talking, but Leliana agreed with Vivienne. “Morrigan traveled with me during the Blight,” she said. “She was a conniving woman who would use any situation or person to her advantage then, and I highly doubt she’s changed much in the last ten years,” she said bitterly. “She will want to talk to you. She will try to manipulate you.” Leliana’s nostrils were slightly flared and her gaze hard.

Theo sighed. “Just like everyone else in Orlais,” he said. He looked up at the high stone walls and iron gates before them. His dress clothes felt too tight, and his bandaged left arm itched uncomfortably under his sleeve. Dorian had fussed over his hair, but he still had a lump on the back of his skull. Magic could help the healing; but there were some things that the body just had to do on its own.

The gates opened and he walked through. The murmurs in the courtyard died as he walked in, flanked by Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, Dorian, and Cassandra. Bull was coordinating spies outside the walls, and Varric was out in the city with Leliana’s informants. “Andraste preserve us,” Josephine murmured beside Theo, though she said it through a bright smile.

A man in an elaborate mask strode forward to greet them. “Inquisitor Trevelyan, it is an honor to meet you at last. I am Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons.” He bowed deeply. “I trust you are finding Halamshiral hospitable?”

Theo had refused to wear a mask, even though it was Orlesian custom. His face already gave away enough with the mottled discoloration around his eyes. But he had to be more cautious about what emotions he showed. “I’m afraid we had a bit of a skirmish,” he said. “I’ve not seen your sister, the Grand Duchess, since that evening; I’d be remiss not to ask after her health.”

Gaspard was impossible to read, but Theo would not have expected anything else. “She is well; I did not realize I had you to thank for her wellbeing.” He gestured for Theo to follow him. Cullen and Dorian broke off casually. Leliana and Cassandra parted before they reached the marble staircase leading to the palace entryway, leaving Josephine and Theo alone with Gaspard. “Florianne has always been stubborn,” he said with a chuckle. “She insisted on arranging the preparations for your arrival, though we had an entire entourage of servants here that could have done the job.”

Florianne had also said Gaspard’s family and their guests weren’t welcome at the Winter Palace, Theo recalled, but he said nothing. All that mattered was getting through tonight with everyone alive.

Gaspard excused himself inside the vestibule, and a young woman with bright eyes and a huge smile nearly tackled Josephine to the ground with a hug. “My sister Yvette,” Josephine said with a smile of her own, but it was a tense one. “The announcements and dancing will begin soon,” she said, and steered her sister away from Theo.

He was alone. For a moment his breath caught in his throat and everyone around him was a potential assassin, hiding their wicked eyes and wicked hearts behind masks and jewels and lacy finery. He retreated to a corner where he could observe and be left alone. He’d been coached to mingle, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet.

An elven servant offered him a glass of wine, but he passed. Every nerve was on edge, vibrating like his bowstring immediately after firing. The voices around him blended together into a roar. He had to get out of here before he keeled over and _really_ embarrassed the Inquisition.

He kept to the edge of conversations and groups and found doors open to the central gardens. Outside, a trio of instruments played soft music while a fountain splashed and bubbled peacefully. The flowers and bushes were trimmed neatly and the white marble benches were spotless. It was such a contrast to the parts of Halamshiral outside the walls; outside elves and poor humans were suffering, collateral damage in a war they didn’t want.

“You should be inside making friends and influencing people,” Dorian murmured, approaching his side with a glass of red wine in hand. “Not being seen with the evil Tevinter Magister.”

Theo shrugged and smiled. “I just want to get through tonight. I can hardly breathe inside.” They sat on a marble bench, keeping their distance; Theo rested his hand on the bench, fingers just barely touching Dorian’s leg. Something about touching him, even so slightly, helped anchor him in reality. The sweet scent of flowers and soothing music helped calm him. “I might have to ask you for a dance later,” Theo said softly.

“The mighty Inquisitor? Seen dancing with a Tevinter?” Dorian snorted.

“I didn’t just bring you along to help. I genuinely did… still do want you by my side,” Theo told him. He stared at the ground. He remembered the Venatoris’ threats of killing Dorian; that had been almost worse than what had happened to him. He dared a glance over at Dorian who seemed sad in some way. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just like a party at home,” Dorian said. “Just missing the ritual sacrifices and my mother.” He made himself smile. “Go back. Mingle with the other guests, and if I feel my magic senses tingling I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Theo made his way back inside. In the grand ballroom introductions were still being made, but it was still the lesser nobles and very few people paid attention. Cassandra and Leliana stood in a corner whispering, and Josephine was trying to extricate herself from her sister. The music was loud, the murmuring, muttering voices louder. It was hard to think. Theo pressed his hand to his head as if he could force out the thrumming and aching settling within his skull.

“A drink, my lord?” He looked up to see Eris holding a glass of wine out for him and he accepted it gratefully. The one time he’d met the elf she’d seemed like any other downtrodden city elf, but now she flitted and moved just like the palace servants. “Someone mentioned you did not look well. I hope the hospitality of the palace will change that,” she said, bowing and disappearing into the swirl of servants and nobles.

It was her way of telling him that his antisocial behavior had been noticed, and also was not appreciated. As he walked away, he forced himself to smile and make eye contact with the other nobles. “Inquisitor Trevelyan!” He looked up and groaned inwardly when he saw Florianne approaching him, but he bowed in greeting anyway. “I’m relieved to see you well,” she said. “I never thanked you for assisting me the other night.”

“I’m glad to see you well, too,” he said. “I’m pleased I could be of assistance to you, though I fear I nearly didn’t fare as well,” he said. No sense mincing words. “It would have been poor repayment for your brother’s hospitality and invitation to let something happen to you, though,” he said.

She bowed her head. “That you put my health before the Inquisition is most humbling.”

“I’m certain it is, my lady.” The other woman who approached was unmasked, but her mien was almost more enigmatic as a result. “’Tis a wonder _you_ escaped unscathed,” she said before turning her golden eyes on Theo. “And here we have the Herald of Andraste himself,” she said in a tone that suggested she found as much meaning in the title as Theo himself did. “I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene.”

“Are you?” Theo asked. He glanced around, but neither Vivienne nor Leliana were in sight.

“Walk with me, Inquisitor,” Morrigan said, as if Florianne did not exist. And after the danger Florianne had placed him in the other night, Theo was not inclined to keep feigning interest or alliance with her. “You and your company have been busy this evening, nosing in every dark corner of the palace, overhearing every dark whisper,” she said with a sly, sidelong glance. Theo said nothing. _She will try to manipulate you,_ Leliana had told him. Morrigan stopped behind a marble column. “Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey. Perhaps we have been hunting it all along.”

He was so tired of all the riddles, and the way no one could ever say what they truly meant. “If you’re proposing we become allies, you’ll have to give me a good reason,” he said. “Since gossip travels faster than wildfire here, you’ve probably heard that I’m not feeling very trustworthy of late.”

Morrigan nodded. “A wise stance,” she said, but didn’t ask questions. She glanced around furtively. “I cannot linger much longer. There are wicked games afoot this evening, and I’ve been away from Celene for long enough.” She reached into the beaded drawstring bag at her side and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in black silk. “But should you change your mind about allying, consider this a token of good faith. I acquired it when I killed a man I found snooping in dark corners. If the rumors about you are true, you will know what this means.” Morrigan bowed deeply and turned away, her wine-colored skirts rustling.

Theo made sure the marble column provided coverage before peeling back the folds of black silk. His hands shook slightly, and then his heart skipped a beat and he felt sick. In his hand he held a blood-stained, curved Venatori blade.

He stared at it for a long time. Without a Tevinter cultist holding it, it was just another knife and his mark did not react. This could not hurt him. But if Morrigan had taken it off a dead Tevinter…

“The Venatori are here,” he murmured to Leliana in the main ballroom. When she asked how he knew, he glanced over at Celene on her dais, with Morrigan standing at her right. Leliana began to protest, but he handed her the wrapped up knife. “I know what a Venatori knife looks like better than anyone in the Inquisition except Dorian now,” he said, meeting her gaze. Cassandra inhaled sharply, and her eyes narrowed. She began to survey the room as if she expected Venatori to crawl out of the walls.

Leliana sighed and nodded to Josephine to join her. “Cullen has had people watching the entrances all night,” she said. “If they’d come in we would have known it by now.”

“Not unless they were already here.” Theo stared around the room. The lights were too bright, casting too many shadows in the myriad corners and alcoves surrounding the dance floor. It was probably a trick of the lights, but it seemed that every other mask had golden horns. He caught the attention of Eris, who was gliding about the ballroom as if she’d been serving the uppermost echelon of Orlesian society her entire life. She joined him and bowed. “Find Dorian. The Tevinter,” he told her quietly and she left, weaving in and out of mingling groups that were clueless to the potential danger lurking about them.

Eris returned a few minutes later, pale but still maintaining her composure as she presented Dorian. “We have company,” Dorian said with a pleasant smile. He glanced at the knife Theo still held in his hand and met his eyes. “The servants’ wing is a massacre,” he added in a lower voice that Theo had to lean in to hear. “It wasn’t just murder; it was sacrifice.”

“Get Cullen and get him to get our men in here,” Theo told Eris. He looked up at Dorian. “Magic?”

Dorian nodded. “Everywhere. Though I don’t think you needed me to tell you that.” He took Theo’s hand and turned it over, his fingers lightly tracing over Theo’s palm. It didn’t spark or flare the way it had when the Venatori touched it, but it did glow more brightly. His arm tingled and itched and it felt like his blood was heating up. He watched as Eris headed for the door to the foyer, but it had closed.

A horn blew a fanfare and before Theo knew it, members of the Inquisition were being announced to the polite applause of the gathered nobles. He clenched his hand in a fist and tried to ignore the buzzing feeling beneath his skin. Though the room was packed with people it felt cold. He looked around frantically, as if expecting legions of Venatori to appear from the outskirts of the room. And then his name was called and he was approaching Empress Celene’s dais with wide eyes, scared and uncertain in front of all of Orlesian high society.

Probably not the best way to make a first impression upon an Empress.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, we are relieved you are able to be here. Rumors are as prevalent in Orlais as fine wines, and yet there seemed to be some truth to this one. My chevaliers said your people were most concerned,” Celene said.

Theo bowed deeply. “Nothing could keep me from beholding the beauty of the Orlesian court, or that of the grandest beauty of all, Imperial Highness,” he said, silently thanking Josephine’s tutelage many weeks ago. Next to him Dorian muffled a snort.

“Shall we dance, Inquisitor?” Florianne asked, stepping forward. Dorian gave a slight nod, and Leliana and Josephine, though suspicious, respectfully stepped back. The center of the floor cleared and Theo led Florianne out. His heart beat hard in his chest. The Venatori knife in his pocket felt too heavy, and his left hand felt tingly and numb. “You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor,” she said as the music struck up.

Theo concentrated on his moves and steps. “And what am I to you?” he asked her. “You’ve paid a great deal of attention to me and my people since our arrival, and you tend to show up at quite convenient times.” He took her hand and spun her around.

Florianne took each step in stride. “You dance with death better than you do with me,” she said, switching her footing so she was in the lead. Even over the music Theo could hear the murmurs of the watching nobles. He tried to see if Cullen had come in yet; Cassandra was arguing with someone near the door. He almost stepped on Florianne’s foot. “Careful, Inquisitor,” she said with a tinkling laugh, but her eyes were dark behind her mask.

Theo recovered and forced himself back into the lead of the dance. He barely heard the amused giggles and light clapping. “What can I say?” he asked with a grim smile. “I’m a mystery to everyone.”

The lights dimmed slightly, enough to make his heart jump. “I suppose the true mystery is how you manage to evade certain death time and time again,” she said. “And how one non-mage was able to kill a room full of armed Venatori. Even your Tevinter lover wouldn’t have been able to do that. It’s truly curious.”

The music stopped; the lights dropped and the room filled with panicked screams. A ring of masked mages with bloody hands surrounded the dance floor, and a green glow coalesced in the air above Theo and Florianne. “The Elder One _will_ triumph,” she said calmly as she produced a thin stiletto dagger from her sleeve. She lunged toward Theo, who ducked and stumbled as the green glow grew blindingly bright.

The Fade rift shimmered in the air above him and in its ripples he could see through the Veil. Demons reached for the edges of the tear and began to pull themselves through. Florianne however was nowhere to be seen. The screams of nobles and shrieks of demons grated on his nerves and fire shot through his left hand and up his arm.

As his vision cleared he saw Leliana and Cassandra sprinting toward Celene. Florianne had knocked her brother Gaspard backward, and Morrigan fired off a ball of flame toward the rift. The first wave of demons poured through the Fade rift and the Venatori mages, task accomplished, closed in on him with knives bared.

Again Theo had no weapon, and he cursed. What he wouldn’t do for a bow right about now! More blood was being shed and he was standing here, unable to do anything.

 _No,_ he told himself as another wave of fire shot up his arm. He did have a weapon; but could he make his mark defend him even when he wasn’t facing inevitable death?

And then Dorian was at his side. He had no staff, but he was still able to cast, pulling from the Fade with the sheer force of his will. “You wanted them dead,” he told Theo as he conjured a ball of lightning and flung it out at an approaching demon. “Here is as good a place as any to start.”

Theo pulled out the Venatori knife and stared at it; remembered the sting as a similar blade drew across his skin, recalled the boiling pain within him when they’d used blood magic to torment him. He remembered everything they said about Dorian, and most of all, what would happen if they succeeded here tonight. Anger enveloped the confusion and he clenched his jaw as he stared down the approaching Venatori.

He raised his hand and channeled his fear and anger and determination into the pulsing green glow. His mark sparked, then, drawing from the energy of his emotions and the Fade, it exploded into a violent green flame that dulled even the light of the Fade rift. He focused on his hatred for the Venatori and all they stood for. Tentacles of green lightning snaked out and snatched at the Venatori mages, pulling them piece by screaming, bloody piece into the Fade.

When every last one had died he stared up at the rift and focused his mark on that. He felt the connection between the Fade and whatever magic flowed through him. He bit his lip concentrated on willing the tear in reality to close.

And then it was over. The green light faded, leaving no illumination save the low-burning candles. The dance floor was spattered with gore. Many of the guests had collapsed on the floor, some dead but most just shaken and terrified. Celene was nowhere to be seen.

Theo dashed across the floor and up to Celene’s dais, leaving bloody footprints on the marble steps. He was terrified of what he’d find, terrified that he’d taken the bait with the Venatori distraction and they’d failed to save Celene. He held his breath and looked.

Leliana sat with the Empress and Josephine fanned Celene. Morrigan hung back in the shadows, golden eyes narrowed as she looked on her former traveling companion. Florianne had been knocked to the ground and Cassandra stood over her, one boot planted firmly on her back. Gaspard was livid, even behind his mask. “What have you done, Florianne?” he snarled. He glanced up over the carnage of the grand ballroom, and then at Theo. “And if you did this… you were behind the attack on the Inquisitor.” He shook his head.

“It was for you, Gaspard,” she said, struggling against Cassandra, who only leaned her weight in more to pin Florianne. “Your chance to become Emperor, and to be rewarded by the glorious new world of the Elder One!”

“I have seen that world,” Leliana said, scowling. “It is far from glorious. You were a fool, Grand Duchess.”

“No.” Celene’s voice was slightly breathless, but her tone firm. “Florianne de Chalons is now formally stripped of her titles, lands, and wealth and is no longer recognized at this court,” she announced. “She is charged with grand treason against the empire, the sentence for which is death.” Florianne struggled, but guards were already entering, led by Cullen and a contingent of Inquisition soldiers. “Furthermore, I hereby turn her over to the Inquisition for further judgment for her crimes against the Inquisitor.”

“Gaspard, please, say something,” Florianne begged, but her brother just sneered.

“I confess to wanting to be emperor,” he said, “which is no secret to anyone—least of all Empress Celene. But I would ascend honorably, as is the way of the chevalier. This,” he said, gesturing to the destroyed ballroom, and the stiletto dagger just out of her reach, “is not honorable.” He turned to Theo. “Inquisitor. I beg your forgiveness. I swear on my honor as a chevalier, and my bloodline that I had no knowledge of my sister’s schemes.”

Theo sighed and rubbed his aching head. “I thank you for your apology, Grand Duke,” he said in a tired voice. “Josephine, Leliana, perhaps you would like to help Gaspard and the Empress begin their peace talks?” he asked.

“What about Briala?” Celene asked suddenly.

“She is dead, your Grace,” Dorian said, bowing slightly. “The Venatori slaughtered any servant they could find in order to power their ritual this evening. I’m afraid your Briala was masquerading as a servant.”

Celene just nodded once. “Then it is down to you and me, cousin,” she said lightly to Gaspard, and they left with Leliana and Josephine. Arrangements were made to take Florianne back to Skyhold for further judgment, and the remaining guests began to collect themselves and head for the exit.

Theo slipped out a side door that led to a balcony overlooking the gardens. In spite of the chaos indoors, the instrument trio continued playing soft music for the few nobles that were still outside. He gazed up at the sky, then closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the night air; it was easy to pretend that nothing had happened. He didn’t even start when he heard soft footsteps approach.

“You’ve saved the day,” Dorian said, leaning on the railing alongside Theo. “You could go into that peace talk and get anything you wanted out of it, and yet you’re out here?”

Theo sighed. “I got what I wanted. The Empress is safe and we’re all still alive. A couple dozen dead Venatori are just a bonus. Josephine knows what we need from them, and should be able to get them to cooperate. I’m just the man with the glowing hand,” he said with a tired shrug.

Dorian chuckled softly. “Come. We never got to have that dance.”

Theo’s heart skipped and he glanced shyly over at Dorian, who bowed and extended his hand. Dorian led the dance and Theo let him; the fluid movement of the dance, and the soft music wafting from the gardens mixed with his exhaustion and his eyelids drooped. Eventually the music stopped and they weren’t dancing so much as Dorian held Theo upright and they swayed gently to a tune only they could hear.


	29. At the Crossroads

_Chapter 29: At the Crossroads_

Theo had told his people if they had a problem to voice it, so he only had himself to blame. Still, he made himself stand still and stoic amid the arguments. Vivienne said he was lucky she was willing to work with a Tevinter, and that bringing a lifelong apostate into the fold was an insult to the Inquisition. Leliana could not overcome her distasteful memories of Morrigan during the Blight; Josephine, however, insisted they could not send her away, as it would be a direct insult to Celene. Cullen wanted to be with Cassandra, Varric, and his troops investigating the red templars in Emprise du Lion, and paced the war room, agitated.

“We stopped Celene’s assassination and have dealt significant blows to the Venatori,” he said. “Send me to the Emprise; I’ll deal with Samson,” he said, hands splayed on the war table and eyes locked on the region of the map marked with red.

“I need you here to coordinate other troop movements elsewhere,” Theo said, voice firm.

“I went with you to Adamant,” Cullen reminded him.

“Because that was a concentrated effort. Now we have pockets of activity to deal with everywhere if we hope to rout out Corypheus’s followers and plans,” Theo said. He looked up and met Cullen’s eye. He held the gaze for a few moments. He didn’t want to make it an order; Cullen was his general, and had proven his loyalty and worth over and over again in spite of his lyrium withdrawal. Finally Cullen sighed and went back to pacing.

Dorian handed a list of potentially helpful tomes to Leliana, requesting that her spy network smuggle them out of Tevinter. “If we can prove who Corypheus used to be, and if he had connections to current houses in the Imperium, it could aid us in getting support from the north,” he suggested.

Leliana sighed; her network was spread thin as it was. “I can ask Bull…” her voice trailed off. Bull had gone to Emprise du Lion with Varric and Cassandra, but more than that, he no longer had Ben-Hassrath contacts. “I will see what I can do,” she said with a shrug.

Everyone finally left and Theo stood alone, savoring the calm after the storm. He dropped into a chair and closed his eyes, but sat up when he heard the door creak again. “Solas,” he said with a sigh of relief. “Thank you for coming.”

Solas inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “It’s been a long while since we’ve spoken,” he said, taking a seat next to Theo. “You’ll be glad to know the amount of rifts across the Dales and Emerald Graves has diminished.” Theo nodded his thanks. “But that’s not why you’ve requested that we meet privately.”

Theo turned his left hand over and stared at his palm. Here in the dim war room the green glow was deceptively soft and looked almost harmless. He explained to Solas what he’d been able to do in Orlais. “The first time it was like it saved itself by saving my life,” he said, closing his fingers over the mark. “And then I was able to channel my emotions into it the second time, even though my life wasn’t immediately threatened.”

Solas reached for his hand and Theo allowed him to examine the mark. Solas’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hand hovered over Theo’s palm. Suddenly his mark flared and the green ball of crackling Fade energy appeared overhead. Theo gasped and pulled his hand back, his pulse pounding, but Solas seemed unconcerned. The elf opened his eyes and looked up at the glow. “It seems that your mark is capable of tearing the Veil at will,” he said after a moment. The green light shone on his bald head and reflected in his eyes. “The Veil separates the spirit realm from this one. Spirits are drawn to strong emotion, and there is little emotion stronger than that felt when one is about to die.”

Since there was nothing or no one in the room drawing Theo’s emotions, the green tear crackled, sparked, and died out, leaving the room dim again. “The second time, it seems you drew on memories and feelings and channeled them into your mark.” He looked up and met Theo’s eye. “You have a more powerful weapon at your disposal than any of us thought,” he said.

It didn’t make Theo feel any better. If anything it left him wondering what Corypheus had planned to do with the orb to begin with, and what he would do if he could get hold of Theo’s hand now.

Solas rose to take his leave. “I had a chance to speak with the Lady Morrigan,” he said, resting his hands on the back of the chair. Theo gave him a wary look and Solas chuckled. “You forget I’m also a lifelong apostate,” he said. “Enchanter Vivienne has said naught but two words to me since we were first acquainted. But I believe that Morrigan may hold the key to discovering the enemy’s next move.”

“That’s comforting,” Theo said. “Now if only Leliana and Vivienne can be convinced of her usefulness.”

“You do not have to convince everyone,” Solas said with a kind smile. “You only need the power and will to defeat your enemies. Especially now that you know the lengths to which they will go.”

Theo hadn’t told anyone else about what had happened with the Venatori, and his glares were usually enough to silence anyone who tried to speak to him about it during the trek home from Halamshiral. Solas, however, had ways of knowing things without being told. It was disconcerting. He clenched his hand into a fist and swallowed. “Yes. That does make me a bit more determined,” he said.

Solas gave him a long look, as if peering at Theo through a lens made of the Fade, and seeing his raw emotion and pained dreams. “You know what the enemy will do. Be certain you do not become them,” he advised, though not unkindly, as he turned and left Theo alone at the war table.

For the next weeks there was little to do but wait for reports to come in. Theo held counsel at the war table each day, but without reports the meetings were brief and tense. He tried to be calm and pleasant, but his frustrations threatened to burst out of him. With what Solas had told him about his mark, it seemed more important than ever to keep his emotions in check now that the mark’s power had truly woken. He was tired of feeling frustrated, tired of feeling afraid and ineffective.

“And so the man becomes a wolf, chained to a stake and unable to attack,” Morrigan observed one morning as Theo paced the length of the great hall. He glared at her; she smiled back. She was dressed simply, in clothing better suited to a wilds traveler than an Orlesian court advisor. “You pace and you growl and you are wary. But if you could act, what would you do?” she asked.

“What I set out to do,” Theo snapped. “Would you be here if Celene hadn’t ordered it?”

“Actually I would,” Morrigan said. “Truthfully, I was awaiting the right moment to broach the topic with the Empress. I have knowledge,” she said in that same mysterious tone she’d used when they’d first met. “I have been places and seen things that most have not, and Celene has as well, though she’d never betray that fact; it is one of her more closely held secrets. I had knowledge that she could use, and now, to thank you for saving her, she has given you my services. And I daresay you may be able to use my knowledge.”

“Why can’t anyone say what they really mean?” Theo asked, though he didn’t expect an answer.

“I cannot say it, but I can show you,” Morrigan offered.

Dorian was upstairs researching, and everyone else seemed to know better than to bother Theo unless they brought useful news. So he shrugged and followed Morrigan out to the garden. She led him to a small storeroom next to the chapel. Inside was dark; moth eaten drapery covered the windows, and dusty drop cloths covered what furniture was inside. Most of what Theo saw was broken. But against the far wall he saw a massive mirror, framed with gold.

At least… he thought it was a mirror. The surface was murky and seemed to absorb what little light there was rather than reflect anything. “Was this also a gift from the Empress?”

Morrigan stood before the mirror, gazing upon it lovingly. “No. This is mine. She did offer a ridiculous amount of gold, jewels, and lands to me, hoping I would leave it behind, but we both know this artifact is beyond price. Her pride demanded that she make such an offer,” Morrigan said, sounding almost fond of Celene. Theo, however, reached out to the surface. He touched the glass and nothing happened. Morrigan gave him a hint of a smile. She held her hands up, palms turned toward the glass, and swept her arms downward.

The glass swirled and brightened. “This is an eluvian,” she said, as if the word should mean something to him. And then she walked forward into the swirling mists and disappeared into the glass.

Theo looked around him, but she had barred the storeroom door. This was the knowledge she had? Was she just manipulating him, as Leliana still insisted, or using forbidden ancient magic the way Vivienne thought? And then he recalled that Dorian would probably hunt his spirit down in the Fade if this was a trick of Morrigan’s.

But he’d also made the decision to stop the enemy no matter the cost. He took a deep breath and followed Morrigan.

The world behind the glass stretched on forever, a twilight landscape of pillars and pathways and pedestals supporting more eluvians, nearly all of which were darkened. “I call this the crossroads,” Morrigan said, looking around. Her voice sounded far away. “If it has another name it is lost to us now. The ancient elves used this place to travel throughout Thedas, and possibly beyond.”

“Faster than the Deep Roads,” Theo noted. He moved slowly; it felt like treading water. “Have you spoken with Solas about this?”

“I daresay the elf is well aware that there are few working eluvians in our world, yes,” Morrigan said, but did not answer his question. “But Corypheus is from a time when the elves walked this place and our world equally easily. With access to an eluvian he could move throughout Thedas at will, and perhaps even access the Fade in body as well as spirit.”

“You came to Skyhold to advise us, and brought exactly what Corypheus wants within our walls?” Theo asked. “Perhaps Leliana is right in her assessment of you.”

The look Morrigan gave him was sad. “What happened during the Blight was unfortunate but unavoidable. I do not begrudge Leliana her anger and distrust, and perhaps I even agree that it is well placed. But what Corypheus seeks is not within your walls.” She brushed past him and ascended the pedestal to the swirling eluvian that would take them home. “But I do believe I know where it is.”

 

* * *

 

The commotion in the courtyard was enough to wake both Theo and Dorian from a sound sleep, which was impressive considering it took quite a bit to wake Dorian. Theo rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed; next to him, Dorian rolled over and groaned. “Do they know what ungodly hour it is?” Dorian asked, squinting at the predawn light seeping into their room.

Theo felt around on the floor and found a pair of loose pants and a shirt, then headed out onto the balcony overlooking the main courtyard. The sun had not risen over the mountains yet; the light was pale and the hold itself cast shadows into the courtyard. The main portcullis was raised and a team of brontos had pulled in a large cage mounted on wheels. A troop of soldiers surrounded it, swords drawn.

He leaned against the railing and squinted. The cage glowed faint red in the dimly lit yard, and the creature inside bellowed and smashed against the bars of its prison. The cage seemed hardly large enough to hold it. Another cage wheeled in behind it, also glowing red. The bellowing and screaming echoed off Skyhold’s walls, and the bronto teams groaned sorrowfully and tugged at their harnesses while the dwarf keepers struggled to calm them.

“What is it?” Dorian asked from behind him. He stood just inside, wrapped in one of the bed sheets. His hair stuck out and Theo resisted the urge to smooth it back into place.

“I think we’ve received our specimens from Emprise du Lion,” Theo said and headed back inside. Initial reports from Cassandra indicated massive red lyrium growth in that region, and Varric’s information from his Valammar contact had confirmed some of the worst fears anyone could have about the substance. Theo had asked Skyhold’s arcanist, Dagna, if she knew much about any of it; she didn’t, but was eager to examine any specimens that Cassandra’s team could send ahead.

Theo hadn’t been expecting actual red templars, though.

The Venatori were just one part of Corypheus’s army; there was still very little he knew about the red templars, and his forces hadn’t engaged many of them since the attack on Haven. It seemed that Cassandra, Varric, and Bull had stumbled upon one of their main training and transformation grounds in Emprise du Lion, though.

The war room council that morning was tenser than usual. “The civil war in Orlais made people desperate,” Josephine told Cullen, who leaned against a wall, pressing his fingers to his temples as if trying to drive out the red lyrium song. “When the red lyrium began to grow in the quarry, the poor woman saw an opportunity.”

“She sold her family and friends to the red templars,” Cullen said quietly. Theo wasn’t sure if he was simply saddened, or controlling his rage.

“She wanted to help.” Theo nearly jumped out of his skin when Cole appeared. He often forgot about the strange young man who’d initially warned him about the red templars at Haven. He had a way of appearing and disappearing and leaving hardly so much as a trace of his presence. “She thought she was helping and the more she helped the worse it became and the deeper she delved until she drowned.”

“Cole, what can you tell us about the red templars?” Theo asked, rather than attempt to make sense of what he’d just said.

Cole peered out at him from under his hat. “They are angry,” he said. “The song fills them and they become the music and it has nowhere to go. They lose themselves to the song.” Theo glanced at Cullen, who was shaking his head. Cullen had seen the worst of the templar order…or so he’d thought. “If you don’t stop them they will grow up all over the world,” Cole said. “The Elder One will use their chaos to feed himself.”

“We’ll just have to keep that from happening,” Theo said with a shrug. Some days he wasn’t sure if he even believed himself anymore, or if he was just saying what people needed to hear. He dismissed his meeting, and sent a courier to let Dagna know he and Cullen would be meeting with her shortly. When he was alone he sagged into a chair leaned over the war table; everything seemed to blend together: the lines of troop movements, the markers over active zones, and the intricate daggers driven into the table to mark his victories.

There was Adamant, Crestwood, Halamshiral, the Western Approach, the Dales… and still Corypheus was out there raising an army of corrupted red templars, and the Venatori were helping him.

“Do you want to forget?”

Theo nearly toppled over in his chair and swore loudly. “Cole!” he snapped.

The strange half-spirit stood before him, head cocked to the side. Theo couldn’t see his eyes under the wide brim of his hat, but he felt a sense of sadness emanating from Cole. “You hurt,” Cole said simply. “Darkness, curved horns, curved blade, blood and fire and green light…“

“Stop,” Theo said quietly, feeling a weight upon his chest.

“You didn’t want to die.”

“Of course I didn’t,” The said, frustrated, and wondering how to send away the spirit, and if he did, would it hurt Cole’s feelings? Did spirits even have feelings to hurt, and even if Cole did, did Theo care? Halamshiral was still a gaping and raw wound, but at least it had the benefit of driving him relentlessly forward.

“Because if you did, they would kill him.” Theo sank back into his chair and Cole knelt beside him. “I can help the hurt,” Cole offered again.

For one moment Theo wondered if he should take Cole up on the offer. Once, long ago, Cole had offered to erase his memories of his father; but if Theo had lost those memories, would he have been able to stand up to Bann Trevelyan the way he had? Doing so had been a major hurdle. But as much as those memories had hurt, they’d made him who he was; the Venatori attack had changed him, and he wasn’t sure he entirely liked it. Certainly he was more driven and more willing to do the unpleasant tasks that his position required of him. But it had destroyed part of him. He could feel it and he knew Dorian could feel it as well. Dorian hadn’t said anything about it; but Theo saw it in his eyes, the uncertainty and worry over what he was becoming, and that hurt worse.

He swallowed against the growing lump in his throat and blinked away the burning at the back of his eyes. “Let me think about it,” he told Cole. “Thank you.”

Cole stared at him; at least, that’s what Theo thought he was doing. “If you need me I will find you,” Cole said simply, kindly, and as odd as it sounded, Theo knew that was exactly what would happen. Theo nodded his thanks, and then as quickly as he’d appeared, Cole was gone.

Theo’s pulse beat fast and he pushed up his sleeve to see the scarring on his arm. How often did someone get the chance to erase the most painful part of themselves? And why wouldn’t they want to? And yet he’d hesitated. He had nightmares and headaches and sometimes woke in a panic, feeling around in the dark for Dorian. Forgetting everything, and giving them both decent sleep, might be a mercy.

He made his way to Dagna’s workshop, where Cullen was already waiting, staring at the hulking beast in its tiny cage. The room glowed with evil red light, making Theo recall the attack on Haven. He forced himself to stand there next to Cullen and examine the beast. It was more crystalline than human; he couldn’t tell if its roaring was from anger or anguish at what it had become. “This was human once?” he asked in a low voice.

“Once,” Dagna said, fearlessly approaching the cage and staring up at the thing. Most people were surprised to realize the Inquisition’s arcanist was a dwarf, but after all Theo had seen, very little surprised him anymore. She possessed an uncanny curiosity about all things magical, which often trumped common sense. “Varric’s contact had said something about red lyrium being almost alive,” she said. “It’s like… it gets into a person and then takes over. Unchecked, this is what they become.” She stared up at the thing with wonder in her eyes. “Regular old blue lyrium doesn’t… no, _can’t_ do this.”

“Regular lyrium has its own horrors,” Cullen said, his lip curled in disgust. “It creates its own monsters. Though nothing like this,” he conceded.

The other red templar was still human, though his eyes glowed red and black veins crawled up his neck and face. His knuckles were bloody from punching the bars of his cage, trying to break free. His nostrils flared when they approached, and his jaw was clenched so tightly Theo was surprised that he was able to speak—and that his teeth had not been ground to powder from the grinding.

“Will he become like that?” Theo asked, glancing between the two very different creatures: both once men, but both in various states of transformation from the red lyrium.

“Only if he’s fed more red lyrium, I think,” Dagna said. “He hasn’t said much, but the things he has said?” She shook her head and laughed a bit nervously. “They’d make my mother blush, and she used to spend time in Tapsters down in Orzammar.”

“So he’s coherent,” Cullen said, and Dagna nodded. “What can you tell me about Samson?” he asked.

“Fuck you,” the red templar snapped, reaching out with both arms toward Cullen’s throat. He was frighteningly fast, another side effect of the lyrium. “He’ll turn everyone in the Emprise into red templars. We’re sworn to the Elder One. He’ll lead us to victory over you pathetic excuses.” Across the room the juggernaut bellowed in agreement.

Theo and Cullen left Dagna with her specimens; she’d made casual mention that she might need to dissect one at some point, and Theo had given his permission. Cullen didn’t seem keen on it. “These were once men. Templars, who vowed to serve Andraste and the Maker.”

“And they violated those vows to serve Corypheus,” Theo said. “If it helps us save more from falling? If it helps us save Thedas from Corypheus?” Eventually Cullen conceded, though he clearly was not happy about it as he headed back to his office.

More blood on his hands, in the name of fighting the enemy on their terms. Theo could have asked Dagna to find a cure; instead he gave her permission to euthanize the red templars. He tried to tell himself that they were more red lyrium than man, that killing them would be a mercy; and whatever she learned may help others further down the line.

Cole’s offer started to seem more and more appealing.


	30. Considering the Cost

_Chapter 30: Considering the Cost_

 “You look awful.”

 Theo licked his lips nervously and glanced around. “I didn’t bother you, did I?” he asked.

 Cullen shook his head. “No. I don’t sleep very often,” he said ruefully. “Come in.” He got a look at Theo’s drawn face and the dark circles under his eyes. “Have you been drinking?” Theo shook his head as Cullen pulled up a chair for him. “Maybe you should,” he suggested and pulled a bottle out of his desk drawer. He took a quick swig and handed it to Theo.

Theo took the bottle and drank. It was warm and smoother than he would have expected, and he nodded his thanks. “I’m… not sure where to begin, actually.” He looked around Cullen’s office: the fireplace, the windows, the ladder to his private quarters… anywhere but at the commander. The fire crackled, but otherwise there was silence while Cullen waited patiently, feet up on his desk. Theo sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. “You were in the Ferelden Circle and in Kirkwall. You saw the worst of just about everything.”

Cullen nodded and reached for the bottle. “I did.”

“If someone gave you the chance to forget that any of that ever happened to you… would you take it?” Theo asked. His voice came out just barely above a whisper. Cole’s offer had haunted him all day and into the night. He’d lain in bed staring between the ceiling and Dorian’s sleeping face. His thoughts jumbled and he couldn’t sleep, so he’d dressed quietly and slipped out into the night with no purpose and destination in mind until he found himself knocking on Cullen’s door.

Cullen swung his legs down and instead leaned his elbows on his desk, his hands folded in front of him. “There’s not one night that goes by that I don’t have at least one nightmare about at least one of those places,” he said quietly. “It seems forgetting is impossible. But if I were given the chance?” He sighed and picked up the bottle again and drank. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know that it could be possible to forget it all. Why?” he asked.

“Cole told me he could help by making me forget Halamshiral,” Theo said. “And I’m seriously considering the offer.” He slouched in his chair. It was the first time he’d admitted this to anyone. He’d told Dorian he was just tired and had a lot on his mind, and Dorian had not pressed the issue. There was worry in his eyes, of course; but he just snuggled into Theo and drifted off to sleep. Theo felt guilty about not being open with Dorian about this, but he felt ashamed that he was even considering it. Like forgetting would make him weak.

The ensuing silence made him squirm. He felt Cullen’s eyes on him, searching deep into him. “If I’d had such an offer so soon after Kinloch Hold happened, I would have been sorely tempted,” Cullen said at long last. He stared at the bottle of liquor and the way the fire made the amber liquid seem to glow warmly. “I won’t lie; the experience damaged me deeply on a spiritual and emotional level.” His voice was soft and his face twisted with the pain of the memories. Theo was torn between apologizing and leaning in to hear better. “I spent months after recovering in the Chantry, terrified of magic and mages and too afraid to sleep from fear of the dreams. If someone had had the power to erase it from my mind then, I’d have said yes,” he said.

“And now?” Theo asked.

“Well. Because I never had that offer, it was never an option,” Cullen said with a shrug. “I had to accept that it had happened and it was a part of me, and decide what impact my past would have on my future. It’s a daily decision,” he added.

Theo nodded. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. “I don’t like what I’m becoming because of it. And if I could go back to how things were, as if it had never happened? The thought is more than tempting.”

Cullen met his eyes. “You could forget, but everyone else would remember,” he pointed out.

Theo imagined sending Cole out to Skyhold, gently excising those memories from everyone who’d been there in Orlais with him. It didn’t have to be anything terrible, just a brush across the mind and they’d forget along with Theo. But that also included Dorian. Could he do that to Dorian? And to Cullen, who sat across from him, counseling him now? He nodded, unable to find his voice, and instead reached for the bottle and took a long drink.

“I know you have your own opinions about the Chantry,” Cullen said after a moment. “But you need to find a way of dealing with this that won’t result in you destroying yourself or those around you. I had the Chantry and my faith, and that helped me heal. You must find something. If you think you dislike yourself now, you will hate what you become otherwise.”

Theo nodded and pushed the bottle back to Cullen, who just shook his head and told him to take it before bidding him goodnight. Theo walked out onto the ramparts and just kept walking. He paused to stare up at the starlit sky every so often and tried to think about what Cullen had told him, but he was no closer to making his decision. While he knew healing took time he also remembered that Cole had said he would find him when he was ready. Theo tried to remind himself that Cole meant well; but he was afraid that the spirit-boy would show up suddenly and he wouldn’t be ready.

Cole did not appear the next day, or the next, for which Theo was grateful; yet he still went through his days apprehensive that the spirit would appear asking for his decision. He kept thinking about what Cullen had said, and it pained him to recall it every time he looked at Dorian. For his part Dorian gave him space, but Theo could see the worry in his grey eyes and it hurt knowing he was keeping this secret from him. It was easier during the day when Inquisition business and research kept them both too busy to think about it; but at night, as they lay in bed together, it was harder to avoid.

Theo had been the one to insist, those months back, that there be no walls between them. Then he’d gone and sealed himself off from Dorian after Adamant; Dorian made no secret about the fact that it had hurt him then. Now Theo was doing it again and Dorian surely was pained by it, but he said nothing to Theo, and that confused him more than anything. He wanted…needed to talk to someone about it all, but when it came down to it as he stared at the ceiling in the dead of night, the one person he needed to talk to about everything was sleeping softly beside him. Dorian had held him close, had helped clean his wounds, and had simply sat with him without asking questions.

Theo leaned on his elbow and gently jostled Dorian’s shoulder. “Dor,” he whispered. Dorian was warm and his skin almost seemed to tingle under Theo’s touch: the sensation of magic running through him, as much a part of his being as blood. “Wake up.”

Dorian groaned and snuggled deeper under the covers. “No,” he said, pulling the pillow over his head. Maker only knew what time it was. Theo dropped back to his pillow, chewing on his lip. Next to him, Dorian sighed and stirred. “Something wrong?” he asked groggily. He cast a globe of faint blue light overhead and squinted at Theo.

Theo rested his head on Dorian’s chest. The sound of his heartbeat was reassuring. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, then told Dorian everything that Cole had said to him. Even though there was no chance of waking anyone else, he still kept his voice at a low, hitching whisper. “I want to, I really do,” he finished.

He expected Dorian to scold him. But instead Dorian wrapped his arms around him and held him close for a long while. “If you forgot I’d still remember,” Dorian said at last: almost exactly what Cullen had said.

“I could ask Cole to help you forget, too,” Theo murmured into his chest.

Dorian lightly stroked his hair. “Perhaps I don’t want to,” he said. Theo pulled away and looked at him, brow furrowed. Dorian smiled and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. “It was awful, yes. I hated seeing you like that. But if anything it reminded me of why I stay, why I keep fighting, and why I love you as much as I do. It reminds me of what I’d lose, and that I can’t stand to lose you. It makes me vow to never let that happen again.” Dorian swallowed and blinked.

“What do I do?” Theo asked.

“What you set out to do at the start of all of this,” Dorian said. “You fight.” He tilted Theo’s chin up and met his eyes. “I believed in you long before I fell for you, you know. Your determination and your willingness to take risks and prove everyone wrong about you.” He smiled. “That is all still a part of who you are. It’s just… now the pain is, too.”

He held Theo close and pulled the blankets up over them. He casually waved his hand and a low fire sprouted in the hearth. The warm orange light was far more comforting than the darkness, and drowned out the cold blue magelight and the green glow of his hand. Theo almost laughed, earning a confused stare from Dorian. “This. This Inquisitor thing. It demands everything from me,” he said.

Dorian held him tightly. “Not everything,” he murmured in his ear. “Remember what happened and let it strengthen you. And remember that you always have me, my _amatus.”_

“What does that even mean?” Theo asked.

“It’s a Tevene word that is used so rarely in my part of the Imperium that I’m surprised I even remember it.”

“But what does it _mean,_ ” Theo insisted with a yawn. Maybe he just felt better about relieving so much of his emotional burden that he could finally sleep.

Dorian smiled and kissed the top of his head. “My love,” he said.

* * *

Horns blew from the main ramparts, signifying the return of Inquisition forces. It had been days with little to no reports, and Theo was beginning to have a difficult time concealing his tension. Every day with no report meant another day Corypheus was closer to the eluvian, and potentially closer to Skyhold. Morrigan’s mirror made him uneasy, regardless of her reassurances. “The Crossroads leads to many places,” she kept telling him. “Were one not in the know, it would be anyone’s guess which working eluvian led where.”

Solas’s advice was not much better. “It is unwise to have such an artifact of power in this place,” he said, confirming Theo’s fears. “But where to put it… of that I am not certain. In some ways it is almost better that it is here, where we might observe its activity.”

After that conversation, Theo had the door to the storeroom barred and constant guard set over it.

The horns were a welcome sound, and he ran to the ramparts like an eager child. The Inquisition banners billowed in the mountain breeze as the first regiment of mounted soldiers came through. They were followed by Cassandra and Varric, and Bull and the Chargers. Theo didn’t even wait to see the rest of the procession before he dashed over the bridge spanning the courtyard and down the stone steps to greet Cassandra. “I have never been happier to see you in my life,” he announced with a grin.

She put both hands up before he could hug her. “I am glad of that,” she said, eyes slightly narrowed, as if she didn’t know what to make of his excitement. “We’ve secured the Emprise and driven out the bulk of the red templar presence.” Her serious face broke into a grin. “And we’ve captured the red templar leader, Samson.”

“Does Cullen know?” Theo asked as they headed up the stairs and into Skyhold.

“I wanted to tell him personally,” Cassandra said. “This is something he’s been waiting for since we discovered the red templars even existed.” There was a grim satisfaction in her voice.

She took a brief break to change out of her armor and clean up from the road; Theo would have allowed her more time to rest, but she was determined to meet with Cullen. An hour later the three of them stood before the entry to the dungeons. “You’re serious,” Cullen said, incredulous. Cassandra nodded with a small smile. Theo had never even seen cats that smug and satisfied, but he knew she deserved it. Capturing Samson was the key to cutting off the red templars and dealing yet another blow to Corypheus.

Cullen took the lead as they headed down into the dungeons. “How did you do it?” he asked. “The research we found in the Emerald Graves suggested his armor was impenetrable.”

“Thank Dagna for that,” Cassandra said. “She researched the specimens we sent early on and somehow discovered how to disrupt the red lyrium. She sent her findings directly to us and we were able to ambush Samson’s camp.”

All those days when Theo thought nothing was happening his people had been working tirelessly to strike at the tiniest gaps in the enemy’s defenses. Things had probably been happening too fast for anyone to tell him what was going on… or he’d just been too moody and unapproachable for anyone to want to bother. He suddenly felt ashamed, and considered leaving Cullen and Cassandra to celebrate this victory alone, but they were already approaching a guarded cell.

A faint red glow emanated from behind the bars. He was reminded uncomfortably of his vision of the future when he saw the red light cast upon Cassandra’s face. He shook his head. No, this was Cassandra victorious; they _would_ stop that future from coming to pass. He’d set out to fight, and that’s what he would continue to do.

The man in the cell looked up. His face was pale and craggy, his eyes almost glowing from red lyrium possession. He half-smiled. “Cullen. Not surprising you’d join up with the Inquisition.” His laugh was harsh, as if he’d inhaled too much smoke.

“Samson. Slightly surprising you would join up with the losing side,” Cullen said softly.

“And that’s the Inquisitor?” Samson asked, glancing at Theo. “The stories make you seem bigger. Ten feet tall, eight arms, shooting lightning bolts from your eyes. Same old storyteller bullshit. In the end we’re all just people trying not to die.” He coughed and leaned back against the wall. Most prisoners begged, and some even tried to rush the bars of the cell. “So. Come to gloat, Knight-Commander?”

“I relinquished that title long ago, Samson,” Cullen said. “And I gave up lyrium.”

Samson laughed. “You can say you gave it up, but it will never give _you_ up. The Chantry leashed us like dogs. Told us how much power we could or couldn’t have.” He looked up. “I was tired of being tied down, so I broke their hold on me.”

“And indebted yourself to another master,” Cassandra said. Her expression was one of barely concealed disgust.

“What can I say? The Maker has an ironic sense of humor,” Samson said. He sighed. “Don’t suppose it’d be too much to ask you to just leave me alone for a bit?” he asked. “Let me wallow around, maybe get used to my new surroundings?”

Cullen and Cassandra looked at Theo, who shrugged and nodded. “He’ll pose no threat,” Theo said. He recognized Samson’s pain; Samson had all but given up. Without his red lyrium he was nothing and he knew it, and Theo told Cassandra and Cullen as much when they emerged in the blindingly bright sunlight of the courtyard. “Treat him well, and keep him comfortable,” Theo told Cullen. “Talk to him. He may be the key we need to figuring out Corypheus’s next move.”

Part of him wanted to be there when Cullen spoke with Samson next; part of him wanted to talk to the fallen general and learn his motives. Both Samson and Cullen had taken templar vows; both had seen horrible things happen, and both had reacted in very different ways. What made a man like Samson lust for power no matter the cost, while Cullen could not only give up the source of his power, but risk insanity or death to do it?

It was as Samson had said. At the end of the day they were all just mortals trying to stave off death a little longer. They were all looking for meaning, and all finding it in different places. For what they wanted most, there was always a cost to be paid. Samson, Cullen, Alexius, Dorian, Bull… they were all calculating the cost and if it was worth it.

Theo slipped into a side door of Skyhold and found his way through the winding passages to the cellars. He had spent some of his days avoiding people by cleaning up the cobwebby little library. It kept his mind busy and it ensured a clean, private space that no one (that he knew of) knew about yet. He locked the door behind him and settled onto the settee. The scent of dusty old books and the sounds of silence were comforting and he closed his eyes. Here, he was able to shut out the problems he faced.

“Do you like hurting?”

Theo swore and sat up quickly, fumbling at his belt for his knife and realizing he’d left it upstairs. He looked around, heart pounding, and saw Cole standing by the door. Then a real fear gripped him. Not because Cole had gotten into a locked room; that was creepy, but it was just who Cole was and what he did. Cole had said he’d find him when he was ready, and Theo did not feel ready in the least.

Cole was waiting, nonplussed by Theo’s reaction. “I don’t,” Theo finally said.

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do,” Theo told him, remembering what Cullen had said, and the things Dorian had told him. His chest tightened. “Everyone hurts, Cole. If we forget the hurt we forget who we are. I don’t want to hurt, but I have to. If I forget it, I forget who I am and why I’m here.” His throat felt like it was closing up, and it had nothing to do with the dust in the air.

“They all have pain. It rips and tears and rends gaping holes in their hearts and heads,” Cole said. “A world of worry and wondering why, it keeps comfort clambering on the edges of consciousness.” He took off his hat and held it in both hands. “You want to help,” he said, looking at Theo through his long, flaxen hair.

Theo nodded. “I do. And I can’t do that if I don’t feel what I’m fighting against.” Everything Cullen and Dorian had said just clicked. Seeing Samson, broken and bewildered in his cell, had reinforced all of that. They were all fighting for something they believed in. “What do you think of Samson?” he asked Cole suddenly. There was someone who was hurting, defeated and ready to give up.

Cole cocked his head to the side, thinking. “Music in his head, a song to sing that won’t go away. Conviction and rebellion, they all mix together with fear; fear of what he’ll become if he says no, fear of what he’ll become if he says yes. There’s nothing to lose so he gives it all he has. He feels sad because he only wanted to help the templars and now he’s held captive by the music.”

Theo nodded. “Did you get the same feeling of pain from Eremond?” he asked out of curiosity. Both Eremond and Samson were leaders of the enemy factions; did they share anything else in common other than their service to Corypheus?

Cole actually smiled. “No. Eremond was just an asshole.” Theo laughed in spite of himself. “Eremond, he didn’t want to help, he just wanted power. Samson wanted to help. He still does, but he’s fighting against it.” Cole looked down and twisted the brim of his floppy hat in his nervous hands.     “Fighting, fumbling, feeling… it’s all part of you. Part of everyone,” Cole said, looking up. “But how can I help if everyone wants to hold onto what hurts them?”

“Helping isn’t always about making them forget. Sometimes it’s about making it worthwhile to remember,” Theo said, staring down at his glowing hand.

“He remembers for you. And you… remember for him,” Cole said softly. And just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he was gone, leaving Theo alone with the ancient, dusty books.


	31. Into the Wild

_Chapter 31: Into the Wild_

“The things I do for you,” Dorian huffed as he rolled another set of robes and shoved them into his trunk.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Dorian stared across the room at Theo, gazing out over the mountains. He was little more than a silhouette against the afternoon light. The morning’s war council had been hard on him, but Theo had stood his ground: this afternoon scouts were being dispatched to the Arbor Wilds: unknown, unknowable lands south of the Emerald Graves. Samson had revealed that Corypheus was seeking an elven artifact in the south, and Morrigan’s knowledge confirmed Samson’s information when some were disinclined to believe him. Morrigan’s vote of confidence did not exactly dispel the unease in the room. Solas was particularly calculating, shifting his gaze between Morrigan and Theo as everyone else argued around them.

Even though the scouts would take some time to bring back information, Theo wanted to be ready to move out as quickly as possible. Cullen was mustering the army while Josephine called in favors: particularly from Celene and Orlais. Leliana was meeting with Lead Scout Harding. And everyone else was getting ready to leave within the next few days.

Dorian was not so sure that he wanted to head into wild forests from where no one returned, or so the stories said. But Theo was determined. They’d dealt major blows to Corypheus, and Theo was willing to push forward and deny the enemy yet another victory. Dorian packed up a few more sets of smallclothes and an extra set of boots—who knew what sort of terrain they’d be trekking through?

“I meant in jest,” Dorian said. “I can’t imagine you going off into uncharted territory without me.”

Theo turned from the window and flopped onto the bed. He rolled over on his stomach and watched Dorian packing. “I’m glad you’re coming,” he admitted with a smile. “I’d miss you too much otherwise. But I just wanted you to know that you do have a choice.”

Dorian nodded his thanks. Truth be told, he would have liked to sit this one out; something about following the directions of a red lyrium-addled ex-templar and a mysterious witch of the Wilds felt foolhardy at best. But after Halamshiral, he was disinclined to let Theo dive headlong into danger without being by his side. And if this was the course Theo had decided upon, Dorian would be there with him. Besides, he had to admit to himself, it would get rather chilly and lonely remaining in Skyhold; in fact, he realized, he’d never been here when Theo wasn’t. He couldn’t imagine Skyhold without Theo there, and he didn’t want to.

But for all his time away from home, he was still Tevinter, and still too proud for his own good, so he didn’t say anything about it. He joined Theo on the bed and ran a hand through his dark hair. Theo’d finally gotten his hair cut, and he’d shaved, though he still seemed disheveled and tired. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased when this is all over,” Dorian said. _I know I will._

Theo rested his chin on his folded hands and stared at the floor. “If I survive,” he said quietly.

“You’d better,” Dorian scolded, though the truth of Theo’s simple words weighed heavily on the both of them.

“Then you’d better, too,” Theo said. “Which is why I get nervous when you have the choice not to come along, and you do anyway. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt.”

“Your concern is touching, but I’d like to see you try to make me stay behind when you go barreling forward,” Dorian said.

“I’m the Inquisitor. I could order you,” Theo said with a small smile and a slight quirk of his brow.

Dorian chuckled. “I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m told. You should know that by now.” 

* * *

 

They were camped out in the southern edges of the Emerald Graves a week later. Lead Scout Harding sat in front of the main fire, her arm in a sling; blood seeped through the bandages around her forearm, and occasionally her breath hissed in through her teeth when another spasm of pain shot through her arm. Vivienne, who was the only Inquisition member even less suited to camping than Dorian, handed her another small glass vial of healing potion.

“It’s brutal down there,” Harding said, wincing at the bitter aftertaste of the potion. “What there is in pathways has been overgrown for a long time; getting the army in will be tough. The red templars cleared some, and by clear, I mean they trampled whatever was in their way. Some of the scouts were able to destroy camps, but there are too many red templars.”

“Any idea of what they might be seeking?” Theo asked.

Harding shrugged her uninjured shoulder. “There’s lots of evidence of elven ruins. They’re moving in deep, though, so there could be something we don’t know about. I told my second to send word.”

Theo sat back and stared into the fire. He glanced over at Solas, who was pensive. “The Wilds are full of mysteries,” the elf said at last. “I’ve heard stories, but I’d like to see these things for myself before making judgment.”

“You mean to move out at sunup,” Dorian said as they lay in their tent later that night. “Without waiting for word.”

“If the red templars know what they’re seeking, we need to follow them and cut them off.” They’d turned down the lamp in the tent, but the flickering fire still softly illuminated the walls of the tent from the outside. Dorian could barely see Theo’s eyes in the dim glow. “I _will_ be glad when it’s over,” Theo murmured, wrapping his arm around Dorian’s torso and pulling him close.

Dorian relished the feeling of Theo’s breath warm on his bare back. Much as he would have loved to have a proper roof overhead and be in a proper bed, he would gladly give up such comforts in order to be with Theo. “The constant sense of impending death is quite the strain on our relationship,” he joked.

Impending death came again two days later when they crossed into the Arbor Wilds and the terrain changed drastically. Even with Harding’s reports and the work of the other scouts, they found the going slow. The foliage obscured views of the enemy, which had disastrous results. The Inquisition soldiers weren’t used to fighting in such close quarters; the red templars didn’t care about their quarters. It was as if the red lyrium made them immune to fear and pain and increased their strength. One hacked down a tree with its greatsword, and it fell over and crushed several Inquisition soldiers.

The Orlesian soldiers Celene had sent found that their techniques and training were nearly useless in the dense forest. In the end it was a regiment of archers, scurrying up to higher ground, who began to help pick off some of the templar numbers. Mages cast what spells they could, and it pushed the enemies back enough to allow Theo’s troops to move forward.

As they slowly progressed the silence grew; there were few birds twittering in the trees, and no sounds of other animals in the ample undergrowth. Statues sported patches of lichen; many were eroded as to be unrecognizable, mere lumps bleached by time and sunlight. Others had sharp broken edges indicative of recent breakage. The sharp splinters of broken branches scraped by them and Dorian was thankful for the leather he wore under his robes, though he lamented the way the fabrics were getting snagged and raveled. A quick check showed the protection spells woven into the fabrics were intact, so it was only Dorian’s vanity that would be harmed in a battle.

After a long, surprisingly warm march through the dense foliage they reached a recently burned-out clearing that was as good a spot to camp as any. “Send the scouts and archers ahead with some of the mages,” Cullen ordered, looking at the rough map Harding had drawn. He stood back and rolled his shoulders. “I still don’t know where we’re heading for though.”

“Neither do I,” Theo admitted. He’d shed his armor and sipped from his water skin. He sat on a stump and sent for Morrigan and Solas. “What can you tell me about things now that we’re here?” he asked Solas, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “The statues, the area, anything you have,” he prompted after a moment. He was trying to keep calm, but his limbs were stiff, ready to jump up and fight if need be, and his gaze was intense as he stared at Solas.

Solas closed his eyes. Dorian felt a faint ripple of magic as Solas reached for the Fade. For a brief second Dorian had a vision of pristine stone temples; freshly carved effigies of elven gods; clear pathways and the air filled with sunlight and the sounds of birds.

“This is a sacred place that is being profaned,” Solas said at last. When he opened his eyes he looked sad. “The enemy seeks an ancient temple which, legend has it, was in this place.”

“Legend could very well be reality,” Dorian said, and suddenly everyone was looking at him. Solas in particular seemed rather annoyed. “Corypheus comes from Ancient Tevinter; he would remember the geography of Thedas from then. He would recall a time when Tevinter’s main enemy was the elves, and when their magic rivaled his own.” He looked between Solas and Morrigan. “So the question is: what temple is he looking for here?”

“My research leads me to believe that we stand in the vicinity of the Temple of Mythal,” Morrigan said. “Corypheus seeks an eluvian; where else would the elves of old keep such a thing if not in a temple? And what Solas fails to mention is that the statues about us depict Mythal,” she said.

“The red templars aren’t entirely sure where they’re going, that much is certain from their movements,” Cullen said. “If Solas or Morrigan could lead us…” He glanced at the two mages hopefully.

Both seemed to know more than they cared to let on, and remained silent, glaring between one another. “Please, at this point we _need_ to stop Corypheus from accessing the eluvian,” Theo said. “We have an advantage that the red templars do not, in that we have people who may know where we need to go. I’d rather not waste that advantage.” Coming from Cullen or Cassandra, it would come across as an order; but Theo sounded tired and desperate. “I want to move out in the morning. I’d rather have a direction.”

“You don’t give orders, do you,” Dorian said as he followed Theo into their tent.

Theo turned.“I’m still not used to people listening to me,” he confessed. “And I guess I still want people to feel like they have a choice.”

“And if they don’t choose your choice?”

“I just want to stop Corypheus at this point,” Theo said, splashing his face with tepid water from the basin. “And if we need to take longer to do it, I guess that’s their choice.” He looked at Dorian, hair dripping and his eyes tired. “Are you sorry you came along?” he asked, approaching Dorian, and gently fingering the torn and frayed edges of Dorian’s robes.

“Never,” Dorian said. “I just hope that coming here is not a distraction.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Theo said grimly. 

* * *

 

Theo couldn’t stop thinking of the eluvian in the storage room of Skyhold. The door was barred and guarded. But if Corypheus found the temple eluvian first, everyone left behind at Skyhold would be doomed, and he wasn’t there to protect anyone. The token force left behind could shut Skyhold to the outside world and hold it; but it was unlikely they could withstand an attack from within, especially from Corypheus himself.

The need to find the rumored Temple of Mythal before the enemy made him anxious and jumpy; he tried to be patient even when the trails were overgrown. Solas walked by his side, sliding between the real world and the Fade. “We are going the right way,” Solas told him when they paused for a break in their march. He looked around with deep sadness in his eyes. “Once, this area thrived. Now it is overrun with time and decay.”

“We’ll stop the red templars,” Theo promised, though he wasn’t sure if they could, or if that was even his end goal in this sojourn. _If we stop Corypheus we stop the red templars,_ he reasoned.

Cullen approached. “We’re roughly tracking the red templars, though our paths are starting to diverge. I’d suggest we divide and conquer.” Cullen’s strategy was to distract the red templar army and send Theo and a small party onward toward the temple. His hope was to delay the red templars, and buy Theo the time he needed.

It was risky and Theo wasn’t sure he wanted to leave so many people behind, but in the end he agreed and went onward with Solas, Dorian, and Morrigan. Theo the hunter, Solas the elf, and Morrigan the Wilds witch had little trouble moving quietly. Dorian tried to keep his footfalls soft and his cursing softer, which made Theo grin in spite of the tension he felt.

They moved as quickly and quietly as possible, wandering in an eternal green twilight and barely stopping. The light seemed to grow brighter after a time, and the path opened up a bit, and Theo wondered if he was just imagining it, possibly lightheaded from the trek. The statues along the sides of the path glimmered brighter white and weren’t as aged or broken as those he’d seen before.

He kept moving forward and suddenly Solas barred his way with his staff. The forest had opened up into a vast clearing. Birds twittered in the trees and the sun’s slanting rays indicated it was nearing sunset. They’d been hiking for hours. But more amazing than that was the softly gleaming white stone temple that seemed to emerge from the forest on the other side of the clearing. A stream bubbled out from a grate at the base of the temple. The sounds were welcome, and somehow even more peaceful than the pervading silence of the forest behind them.

“I never thought to see this with my own eyes,” Solas breathed reverently. Even Dorian, whose Tevinter ancestors had been responsible for the destruction of the ancient elves, bowed his head with his hand over his heart. Theo felt the weight of years and the sacredness beneath his feet, and only Morrigan seemed unaffected. This was yet another step toward whatever her goal was, and Theo still was unsure if her goal and his aligned.

They passed through the shallow stream, pausing to refresh themselves and refill their water skins. Solas paused before a statue in the center of the temple grounds proper. He read the inscription, his eyes narrowed. “This says nothing about an eluvian,” he announced. He leaned on his staff and eyed Morrigan suspiciously.

Morrigan approached and scanned the inscription. Solas had said nothing about the translation, but Theo heard her murmur the words ‘sorrows’ and ‘path’. “It’s quite unlikely your ancestors would tell anyone what’s hidden in this temple,” Dorian said to Solas. “Especially with the threat of the Imperium nearly at their doorstep. Your ancestors probably wanted to keep things secret from my ancestors,” he added.

Solas looked angry enough to spit acid and Dorian just stood there, hair mussed and dripping sweat. Theo sighed and was about to break in when pain shot up his arm and left his head spinning. There were whispers in his head, like he heard when near a Fade rift. His palm sparked and flared with green magic. Dorian, Solas, and Morrigan all looked up and around before settling their collective gazes on his glowing hand.

“Run?” Dorian suggested calmly, though his nostrils flared and he was already turning toward the bridge that led to the temple entryway.

Even with his back turned Theo felt Corypheus’s appearance. Waves of malevolence rolled off the monster. Unbidden memories of Haven and red lyrium and explosions of pain and fear flashed through his mind. His breath seared his lungs as he ran; the bridge would never end. Morrigan and Solas were a few paces ahead of him; Theo knew he could run faster, but that meant outpacing Dorian. _Your Tevinter lover will be next_ , the Venatori had said, and Theo refused to let that happen.

The huge doors to the temple were closed. Solas murmured a number of hurried incantations in the elven tongue. Theo turned to see the great bulk of Corypheus making his way toward them. The monster did not hurry. As he drew closer he smiled. The red lyrium shards on the side of his face had grown to great spikes that jutted from his face, neck, shoulder, and back. Behind him, a massive rust-colored dragon rose out from the forest.

Theo took a deep breath. The army had chased down the red templars, leaving the four of them alone. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow. Corypheus was laughing, and Dorian was giving him a look like he was crazy. Perhaps he was, but he would not stand here and be easy pickings for the enemy.

He let his arrow fly.

It struck Corypheus in the throat. The enemy’s smile grew. “Foolish child,” he said in that low, growling voice that oozed condescension. He wrenched the arrow out of his throat. “You’ve matched my templars and my Venatori, but you will not match me.” He continued his approach and Theo kept firing. Dorian spread a wall of flame across the bridge, but sure enough Corypheus floated right through it.

The great doors groaned behind them, and Theo dared a glance backward to see the yawning darkness of the Temple of Mythal open to swallow them whole. He looked back at the advancing Corypheus. The huge dragon pulled back its blood-colored head and opened its jaws. It inhaled.

Theo turned and grabbed Dorian’s robes with one hand, and shoved Morrigan forward into the darkness with his other. He spun and flung Dorian inside the temple and stooped to grab his bow.

The first of the dragon’s flames licked at his fingertips as he sprung backward into the temple. Waves of heat washed over them as Theo and the three mages forced the massive doors closed on groaning hinges. Then all was dark and quiet, but for the muted roar of the dragon and Corypheus outside the temple.

There was nowhere to go but forward.


	32. The Way of Sorrows

_Chapter 32: The Way of Sorrow_

He knew they weren’t alone even before the globe of Solas’s staff lit up. Dorian fussed over Theo’s singed fingertips, but Theo pulled his hand back and held a finger to his lips. As the soft white glow spread it revealed that they were surrounded by a regiment of elves with drawn bows pointed at them. Theo slowly placed his bow on the floor and held his hands up.

Another elf stood on a staircase, eyes fixed on Theo’s glowing left hand. “You are unlike others who have attempted to enter this place,” he said at last. “And you bear a mark of magic that is… familiar.”

Theo glanced at Solas, but Solas did not look back at him. Something about the other elf’s pronouncement about his mark made Theo uneasy. His marked hand had been a source of curiosity for some, and a symbol of power for most. This was the first time anyone had ever called it familiar. It should have made him feel better, or grateful, but it only made him warier.

“We believe the enemy is seeking an artifact hidden within this temple,” he said. “If he finds it before we do, the world as we know it will be destroyed.”

The elf crossed his arms over his chest. The other elves did not lower their bows. “I am called Abelas,” he said at last. “We are the sentinels tasked with protecting this sacred ground. We’ve done so for many years, against many foes. What leads you to believe you may protect this place better than we have?”

Theo longed to reach for his bow, but knew the instant he made a rash move they’d be slaughtered. “Can you at least tell us what the enemy seeks?” he asked.

“Like all who come to this place, they…and perhaps you wish to drink from the Vir’Abelasan.”

“The place of the way of sorrows,” Morrigan whispered, and Solas’s breath hissed in through his nostrils. “He speaks of the well!”

What would Corypheus want with a well of sorrows? Theo wondered, and why did Morrigan know this, but Solas pretended not to? Theo had accepted Solas’s help so long ago, because he hadn’t had any other option; Solas had helped save his life, besides. And Morrigan had pledged herself and her knowledge to the Inquisition. At Celene’s behest, she’d said, but now Theo wasn’t so certain. The Inquisition was a means to an end; he’d known that all along.   But now he had to wonder, to what end? Better yet, to _whose_ end?

“I didn’t come to fight you, or to desecrate your temple,” Theo said with a sigh. He could not speak for anyone else though, and that worried him.

Abelas stared at him with a gaze hardened by long years. “I believe you,” Abelas said at last, but only to Theo. “Are these others enemies of yours?”

“He calls himself Corypheus, and he would destroy the world as we know it,” Theo said. “He is indeed my enemy.” Behind them, the door shook. The ancient temple had withstood other invaders, but Corypheus was one of the first darkspawn and he had a dragon with him. Time did not seem to be on their side.

“We will assist you in what way we can, but after you must depart and never return. As for the Vir’Abelasan, it will not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.”

“No!”

The pain in Morrigan’s voice made Theo glance at her quickly, wondering if she’d been struck by a sentinel’s arrow. Her face was twisted with pain, but she did not bleed blood; rather, she seemed to bleed magic. A dark violet mist enveloped her and electricity crackled in the air around her as if she’d conjured her own personal storm. When the mist cleared she was gone, but a glossy black raven was flying toward the cavernous hallway at the top of the stairs.

Bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled through the silence of the temple. Theo instinctively dropped to the tile floor, hand groping for his own bow. But the sentinels weren’t shooting at him, nor at Solas and Dorian. Their arrows aimed for the raven.

Abelas had taken off after Morrigan, and now the sentinels followed leaving Theo, Dorian and Solas all but forgotten. “Did you know anything about this?” Theo asked Solas.

Solas hesitated, which was all Theo needed to confirm his fears that he was once again a pawn in everyone else’s agenda. “I saw the ancient word for ‘sorrow’ but did not truly believe…” Solas said, but Theo was already taking off after the sentinels. Dorian shrugged and followed, and eventually Solas did as well.

For so long Theo’s only goal had been to survive long enough to defeat Corypheus, and it seemed that he was in reach of that. He’d gone from an unwanted nobody to the Inquisitor, known throughout Thedas. He had no idea what the Well of Sorrows was, but the fact that Morrigan did, and had used him to get to it, made him angrier than Corypheus and his dragon trying to break down the temple doors.

He didn’t look to see if Solas and Dorian followed. The lighting in the corridors of the temple was dim, and he kept his eye on the sentinels, gradually picking up speed until he passed them and ran alongside Abelas. The light grew brighter and Theo saw the corridor opened out onto a spacious patio.

He passed Abelas and ran outside, blinking furiously in the sudden brightness. Morrigan stood at the edge of a shallow pool sunk into the stone patio. The sun glittered down through the leaves and the air was silent. This place seemed to exist outside of time; here, there was no immediate worry of Corypheus or the red templars. It was peaceful, but somehow sad.

Across the pool there was indeed an eluvian, nearly identical to the one stored at Skyhold. Well, at least she hadn’t been lying about that much. But it was small comfort when he saw the look of awe on Morrigan’s face, and the utter sadness in Abelas’s eyes.

The ancient elf bowed his head. “So you truly mean to do this,” he said. Morrigan did not look at him, but instead gazed into the pool. “The Vir’Abelesan is not a pretty name in an ancient tongue. It was named such for a reason.”

“What’s so sorrowful about it?” Theo asked as he quietly approached Morrigan and the edge of the pool. He stared into the waters: clear, sparkling in the sunlight, inviting in the warmth of the deceptively peaceful day around them.

“You forget whose temple we are in,” Solas said, startling everyone. “Mythal, the Great Protector, but also a champion of justice. The one who would drink of the well would bear the burden of Mythal.” They all looked at Solas. “Who among you is prepared for that burden?”

“If it is truly your desire to partake of the well, heedless of the cost, there is little more I can do to stop you,” Abelas said with a deep sadness in his voice.

“For what we most want, there is always a cost that must be paid,” Morrigan said, voice even and gaze mesmerized by the waters of the Well of Sorrows.

“You sound quite prepared to pay this cost, Morrigan,” Theo said. “But perhaps there’s someone else here who would be prepared as well.” He hoped her thoughts would go to Dorian or Solas: both powerful mages prepared for this level of magic. He didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of being a protector, a true champion of justice, was a temptation that was difficult to resist.

He thought of the Venatori, taking advantage of their power and slaughtering humans and elves for their blood magic rituals; torturing him nearly to death to appease a mad, self-proclaimed demigod. The red templars, submitting themselves to the madness of red lyrium, desperate for the power and respect they’d been denied by the Chantry. Of the countless elves living in poverty throughout the cities of Orlais, oppressed by a system that rewarded lying, cheating, and betrayal to advance.

Of himself, forced into a life of Chantry service, only to be saved by dumb luck.

He wanted to drink of the Well. More than anything.

Dorian touched his arm and he spun around, startled, but annoyed at the disturbance. He tried to say something, but Dorian’s pale gray eyes were wide and slightly glassy, and… was his lip trembling? Dorian cupped Theo’s cheek in his hand. “Do you understand what you are risking?” he asked, meeting Theo’s gaze through his long, thick lashes. He ran his thumb lightly over Theo’s cheekbone. Dorian’s touch was so soft, so gentle that it made Theo shiver even in the warmth of the dappled sunlight.

“I only want… I want to do what’s right,” Theo said, closing his eyes to everything so he could focus on Dorian’s touch.

“I know, and I love you for it,” Dorian murmured as if they were the only two there. “But I nearly lost you to the Venatori; I would not lose you to this well.”

Theo found Dorian’s other hand and held tight, trying to ground himself. In the silence of the patio around them, he could almost hear whispers that hadn’t been there before. Voices, old and sad. He swallowed and clenched his jaw, fighting the whispers and the temptation. “Solas, it is between you and Morrigan,” he finally said. He did not dare to open his eyes, lest even the sight of the well make him change his mind. He held fast to Dorian, who had followed him and believed in him, and had never used him to achieve his own ends.

Perhaps Morrigan and Solas deserved the sorrow they seemed so eager to choose.

But Solas surprised him. “No. I would not bear the burden of Mythal for anything in this world,” he said.

“Tis just as well,” Morrigan said, sounding unsurprised. “My studies and training have prepared me to bear many burdens. I do not fear Mythal.” Theo heard a splash as she stepped into the waters.

“Perhaps you should,” Abelas said. “Then it is finished. Mythal, protector, Great Mother, bless your servants as we leave this place, for you are no longer here.”

When Theo opened his eyes again Abelas and his sentinels were gone, and Morrigan was completely submerged in the Well of Sorrows.

The water was not deep; it probably only came up to her waist, but she’d ducked under completely—or been pulled under by some unknown elven guardian. Theo almost hoped she had, but a moment later she surfaced, gasping. Water streamed down her head and face and her deep crimson robes looked nearly black as they clung to her shivering body. She sank to her knees and would have been submerged again but the well was draining, leaving her alone on the mosaic floor of the empty well, hands over her ears.

She rocked back and forth for a moment and though Theo thought it would be nice to comfort her, he couldn’t find it within himself to do so. She’d chosen this. But… she’d chosen it so he could not. In some strange way she’d saved him. He gently pried Dorian’s hand off his arm and jumped down into the empty well. He knelt in front of Morrigan and gently, but firmly took her hands in his. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Morrigan blinked a few times before focusing her golden raptor gaze on him. Even then it seemed like she was trying to figure something out about him, trying to listen to something only she could hear. “I… I believe I will be,” she said. “There are so many voices. There is wisdom and folly. Intelligence. Sadness and joy. So much…” her voice trailed off and she took a few deep breaths. “I am alright,” she announced suddenly. She struggled to get to her feet and looked at Solas, Dorian, and Theo as if seeing them for the first time. “I need time to understand this,” she told Theo at last.

But time was not a commodity they had. The roar of a dragon pierced the silence and sent icy fear trickling down Theo’s spine. They’d forgotten about Corypheus. Without the sentinels to maintain its security, the temple had fallen. He grabbed Morrigan’s shoulder. “Can you make this eluvian work?” he asked, even as he tried to strategize how three mages and one archer could take down an ancient darkspawn and a dragon.

It wouldn’t end well.

“I… I can try,” she said. “Each eluvian has its own key, which makes—“

“Then just try, would you please?” Dorian asked, sounding quite casual, but he was reaching for his staff. Solas did the same, and between the two of them they managed to construct a series of protective glyphs. “They won’t hold,” Dorian said. “The most they’ll do is irritate him. You’ve seen what I’m like when I’m irritated; imagine an irritated ancient Magister.”

Morrigan gritted her teeth and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge water from her ears. She focused on the eluvian and closed her eyes, palms flat on the opaque glass. It was the first time Theo had seen her insecure in her abilities, and that worried him. He nocked an arrow and trained his bow toward the archway, where he could see dragon smoke filling the air.

“Theodane! The eluvian!” Solas said, having glanced behind him. Theo turned and indeed the glass was swirling with milky, pearlescent clouds. Solas was already running toward them, not waiting to see how his glyphs would hold. Theo ushered him through the eluvian. He reached for Dorian’s hand and tried to push him through, but Dorian stood firm.

“Not until I’m sure you’re not going to do something stupid,” Dorian said with a smile.

“Something stupider than standing here while we’re being chased down by Corypheus and his dragon?” Theo asked. “Go. Morrigan and I are behind you. I promise.” Morrigan leaned against the frame of the eluvian, looking far more spent than she should have; he’d seen her effortlessly unlock the eluvian in Skyhold. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Go through,” he urged. He crossed one foot over the frame of the mirror. He nudged Morrigan forward, and eventually she followed his lead. He didn’t rush her, though with each beat of his heart he was conscious of Corypheus’s approach.

And then the ancient Magister was just across the empty pool from them, screaming in anger when he saw there was no water in the well. Theo watched, oddly fascinated for one moment. Evil was terrible, but it was petty as well.

He crossed into the mirror, into the strange twilight world of the Crossroads. When he looked back he saw Corypheus approaching. He stood just beyond the mirror glass, watching his enemy glide closer, fangs bared, eyes glittering with malice. Corypheus reached out his lanky arms and gnarled hands and still Theo stood his ground. Dorian was tugging on his arm; Solas was yelling something, and all Theo could do was watch to see what Corypheus would do.

Next to him, Morrigan waved her hand and the purple-gray mists swirled around them. There was the sound of claws screeching against solid glass, and the barely muffled screams of an enemy thwarted.


	33. Just a Little While Longer

_Chapter 33: Just a Little While Longer_

Morrigan assured them that the temple eluvian would no longer work now that the Well was empty; but Theo took no chances, and kept the Skyhold eluvian under constant guard. It kept him awake, waiting and wondering if Morrigan was right, but he was also worried about Cullen and the rest of the army returning from the Arbor Wilds. Their escape from the temple of Mythal had been so sudden; chances were good the army was still awaiting orders from the Inquisitor, so Theo had Leliana send out ravens and scouts.

For the first time in a long time Theo felt uncertain in Skyhold. Everyone seemed to have an agenda and was using the Inquisition to further it; while Theo was caught, trying to figure out his own agenda.

Most of all he had to first be sure he’d indeed stalled Corypheus, and only one person would know that. Theo slipped down to the dungeons in the dark of night when most of Skyhold slept. The red glow had subsided from Samson’s cell, but the tang of red lyrium was still in the air.

“Didn’t expect to see you again,” Samson said, glancing up from his pallet in the corner.

Theo sat on the floor; no sense standing on ceremony. The stone was cool beneath him, and he traced the patterns made by the mortar between the stones. “We certainly had a time of it down in the Wilds,” he admitted. He looked up. In the dark it was hard to see Samson’s eyes. “You were closest to Corypheus.”

“Yes.”

“What did he want at the Temple of Mythal?”

Samson’s laugh was a harsh croak. A couple cells down another prisoner stirred and muttered something unintelligible. “So you found the temple. Good on you.” Theo did not respond. He could wait all night; sure, he had Dorian waiting in a nice warm bed, but that was another obstacle Theo needed time to think through as well. Samson sighed. “There were rumors of a well; you just had to drink from it and you’d be more powerful than you’d ever imagined.”

“So he didn’t want the eluvian.”

“That was just a bonus. A general with all the power and knowledge of the ages, and a gate to anywhere at any time? It was all we needed. But I guess you figured that out.” Samson crawled toward the bars of his cell; Theo did not move back. “Did you drink? What is it like?”

His voice was hungry; this close Theo could see his sunken cheeks and glassy eyes. “I wanted to,” he admitted. Samson was the enemy, wasn’t he? Why make such a confession? “More than anything.”

“You… you didn’t drink from the Well of Sorrows.” Samson stared at him and then laughed again. “You’re either a fucking saint or the biggest fucking moron in the world.”

Theo had to laugh at that as well. “A little of both, maybe. But I’ve lost myself once before, and it wasn’t my choice. This was my choice, and… I realized what I’d be sacrificing.” And then only because of Dorian. He’d resisted the temptation, but if Dorian had not been there, where would they be now? Not for the first time since that moment at the well did Theo wonder how on earth he deserved Dorian.

“If the well is empty, then we’ve stalled Corypheus,” he said after a moment of tense silence.

“You’ve stalled him, but you’ve probably pissed him off even more,” Samson said, sliding back to his pallet in the corner. “Don’t be surprised when he comes for you.”

The thought had been on Theo’s mind, but hearing someone say it so casually chilled him. “I’ll be ready,” he said, standing. But even he was not totally convinced of the truth in his statement.

The night was warmer than usual, and he ended up standing on the battlements overlooking the mountains. Somewhere to the east was Ostwick, the home that had never really felt like home. And Haven, where it had all begun; it was far enough away that he could not see the scar of the Breach, even on the clearest of days. Somewhere north was Tevinter, Dorian’s home. Theo wondered if he’d ever see the Imperium for himself, or of that was a part of Dorian’s past that was closed for good.

He must have dozed at some point; when he opened his eyes it was chillier and he was stiff with cold. He made his way to the nearest door into the keep, which happened to put him just downstairs from the library. He didn’t know what time it was, but there were always candles burning in the library: Inquisition scholars studying, research assistants putting books away, or cataloguing new acquisitions. At this dark hour even the ravens in the rookery were quiet, leaving the library feeling melancholy and lonely.

It was therefore no surprise he found Dorian there, tucked into a quiet corner surrounded by books and a low-burning candle. From his angle, Theo couldn’t tell if Dorian had fallen asleep sitting up, or if he was actually able to read in the dim light.

“I know you’re there,” Dorian said in a low voice.

“I’m supposed to be the one with super keen senses,” Theo said, sliding from the shadows and taking a seat across from him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“It didn’t feel right being in there without you.”

“Skyhold is your home too,” Theo said.   He reached across the table for Dorian’s hand, but Dorian did not reach back.

“Is it?” Dorian asked. He closed the book he’d been pretending to read. He shook his head. “I know what you would say, and I appreciate it. But ever since our time in the temple I’ve thought that I should go back to Tevinter. I keep talking about fixing it, yet here I am, not fixing Tevinter.” He glanced up at Theo, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “If I continue to think of this as my home, the less inclined I feel to return to Tevinter.”

Theo’s stomach had dropped into his lap, and he felt a funny ache in his throat. “You would… you would just leave?” he asked. “What about me… I mean, us?”

“It would give me no pleasure to leave you,” Dorian said, his voice so calm that it sounded forced. “But you make decisions that affect the entire world now. How could I not consider some of my own?”

“You were the one who held me back from the Well.” Theo swallowed the sensation of broken glass in his throat. “I need you here. Or…or I could go with you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“I’m offering,” Theo said, his voice cracking. He wanted to blame his exhaustion, but the fact was that Dorian had become so much of what the Inquisition meant to him, and so much of who he was that the thought of being without Dorian terrified him.

Dorian sighed and buried his face in his hands for a moment, then ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair. “You’re a natural at emotional blackmail,” he finally said.

Theo reached out and took one of Dorian’s hands. “I’m not trying to blackmail you,” he said, running his fingers over Dorian’s smooth palm. “I truly don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

“It’s your fault for inspiring me, you know,” Dorian said, managing a smile. He laughed softly. “I should not be allowed to mope alone this late at night. I get sentimental and melancholy. I think about the what-ifs in life. What if you hadn’t listened to me back there?”

“I’d have lost everything,” Theo said quietly. “And for what?”

“Morrigan took that loss.”

“She was prepared to from the start,” Theo said. “I’ve been nothing but a pawn to her since the ball. She knew exactly what she wanted, and the only reason I’m glad she’s the one who bore that burden, is it means Corypheus couldn’t.”

Dorian smiled and squeezed Theo’s hand. “All this time and you still haven’t learned to be subtle about your feelings.”

“Life is too short.” Theo gently tugged Dorian’s hand. “We should both get some sleep.” He blew out the candle, and Dorian followed him without protest.

They slipped down to their smallclothes and climbed into bed. Theo curled his arm around Dorian, who rested his head on Theo’s chest. The night had got rather far along, and the light in the room was the faintest gray of the predawn hours. He tried to relax and quell the thoughts and fears that raced through his mind.

“Dorian?” he whispered. Dorian grunted slightly in acknowledgement. “You’ll stay, right?”

Dorian was quiet for a long moment and Theo felt that same broken glass feeling welling up inside of him. But then he felt Dorian smile and snuggle in even closer.   “I suppose I can arrange that. For just a little while longer.”

It would have to be reassuring enough; there were too many things happening for there to be any sense of certainty that there would even _be_ a future to plan for.

* * *

“Boss.”

Theo glanced up from the war table to see Bull standing in the doorway. He waved him in, and for a few quiet moments he and the Qunari stared down at the sprawling map and the markers showing the Inquisition’s reach. Theo had lost track of how much time had passed; the Conclave seemed almost like a dream; the first trip to Val Royeaux felt like it had never happened. Back then the Chantry had laughed in their faces and called them heretics, and now they simpered and begged for an audience with the Inquisition so they might name a new Divine.

“You’ve come a long way, Boss,” Bull said. “I had my doubts when I got orders to join up with you.”

Theo glanced over at him. “I thought you wanted to join because we were doing good work.”

Bull chuckled softly. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you believed that. It was all Ben Hassrath orders. They wanted to see what kind of threat the Inquisition would be.”

“The Breach was the bigger threat, and then it was Corypheus,” Theo said. There’d been a time when he might be offended by the truth. “I didn’t really think about it.” He thought back to the Storm Coast. “I suppose we ended up being a threat, all right.”

“That’s the problem with you, Boss.” Bull laughed. “You don’t really know what you’re doing. But that’s almost a good thing. You don’t realize just how bad things are until you’re in the middle of it all and you have no choice but to get out of it.”

“I’ve been thrust into every situation with very little preparation,” Theo said with a laugh. “I haven’t had a chance to realize things, really. I guess it’s worked in my favor.” He looked up at Bull. The Qunari’s loyalty had initially been due to Ben Hassrath orders, but now that he was no longer Ben Hassrath, he was under no obligation to remain with the Inquisition. Yet he had. “Have you thought about what you’ll do after?”

Bull was quiet for a long while. “I’ve always followed orders. Never really gave much thought to the ‘after’ part of things, you know?”

“Well. If we’re being honest, me neither,” Theo said. Why think about a future when he wasn’t sure he would survive to see it? The thought made him nearly dizzy with panic.

“Don’t worry about it too much, Boss,” Bull said, clapping him on the shoulder, nearly sending him sprawling across the war table. “You’re stuck with me so long as Corypheus is around. And after that? We’ll see. Future’s wide open. I’ve never had that before.”

 _Neither have I,_ Theo thought as Bull left him alone to his thoughts. But unlike Bull, it did not bring Theo the same comfort.

* * *

Cullen was on the march ahead of the main army with a small contingent of troops. So far there’d been no sign of Corypheus, but every hour that passed without a sighting made Theo edgy. “He will show himself,” Dorian said, rubbing a knot out of Theo’s shoulders. “You’ve challenged his power and his pride. No respectable Tevinter would take that lightly,” he said with a low chuckle.

Dorian had been hard at work researching Tevinter history while Theo brooded. “Even if I have a lead I won’t return to the Imperium,” he reassured Theo, holding him close. “The Inquisition can’t be ignored by anyone in Thedas; and Lady Montilyet is quite skilled, so I have no doubt that we have a chance of gaining a foothold in Tevinter.”

He spoke with his usual confidence, so relaxed and assured that Theo found it too hard to doubt him. When Cullen returned, still without having sighted the enemy, there was a small war council to discuss their next moves. Dorian had found proof linking Corypheus to an existing Tevinter family. “Not one of the most powerful, but certainly they have some influence and are working on moving up the social ladder. I’m sure proof that they’re connected to Corypheus might make them willing to assist us,” he said with a predatory smile.

Josephine was smiling as well. “I shall get right on that,” she said. “And I thought beating the Chantry at her own game was fun. Which reminds me…”

Leliana sighed. “I know. Cassandra discovered that the remaining Seekers were allied with the red templars, many against their will; those that resisted died. Neither of us feels much disposed to going to Val Royeaux.” She leaned against a stone pillar; her expression was troubled and her eyes shadowed. For someone in line to become the next Divine, she did not seem happy about the prospect. Theo wondered how Cassandra felt; he’d not seen her since he’d come back; rumors had her either drunk in the loft up above the blacksmith, or deep in prayer in the chapel.

Cullen had not seen Corypheus, but on his trek up to Skyhold he’d caught sight of a dragon. Bull’s single eye lit up at the prospect of dragon hunting, but Theo shook his head. “It’s not our priority right now. If it attacks, great,” he added, seeing the way Bull’s face fell. “Just so long as it’s not the enemy’s dragon.”

Cullen shook his head. “It’s smaller and faster, and I detected no red lyrium corruption from it.”

That was a small relief at least.

When they broke at last Theo had to try to convince himself that they’d made progress. He reached out and caught Dorian’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, and they walked through the halls of Skyhold with no real destination. Theo was quiet, and Dorian did not press him. The understanding silence and the warmth of Dorian’s hand in his helped calm him. His mind reeled with thoughts of Corypheus and this new dragon, but most of all with Dorian’s comment about “just a little while longer.” How much longer was just a little while? Did he too harbor the fear that they wouldn’t survive?

The two leaned against the battlements as the sun began to sink behind Skyhold. Theo stared at the empty bridge below; the bulk of the army was still several days out. He turned his hand over and examined his glowing, pulsing palm. The green light blurred everything in his vision, until Dorian covered it with his own hand. He did not fear the strange magic; he never had, Theo realized. So many people looked at it with awe, reverence, or fear. Dorian had shown an academic curiosity at first, but now he accepted it as just a part of who Theo was.

The evening was wearing on; there would be dinner to eat, more meetings to attend, messages to read and reply to. But that was every night in Skyhold. Now, with the end potentially so close, Theo just wanted this moment to last. Just a little while longer.


	34. Doom Upon the World

_Chapter 34: Doom Upon the World_

The pain woke him before the alarm bells did, and he was scrambling out of bed and dressing even before someone started pounding on his door. Theo clenched his jaw and tried to pull on his breeches and a shirt, but his left arm went from being numb to throbbing with fiery pain. His marked palm crackled audibly, and even though over the last weeks the wounds on his arm had scarred over, they felt like they were tearing open again.

The last time it hurt this badly, the Breach had happened and it kept trying to kill him.

Then Dorian was by his side, arm around him and helping him with his clothing as the shouting and pounding below continued. “ _Fasta vass,_ give us a moment!” Dorian yelled at the stairwell. He brushed Theo’s hair off his forehead. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Theo answered honestly. “Whatever it is, it’s not good.” He met Dorian’s gaze in the flickering green light of his mark. “This…it could be it.” He swallowed and forced himself to keep looking at Dorian; now was the time for honesty, regardless of how frightening it was.

“I’m with you,” Dorian said simply. “ _Amatus.”_ And he lightly kissed Theo’s forehead and headed down the stairs with him.

The main hall was a flurry of panicked activity. Cullen was trying to shout orders, but no one was listening. They were all staring out the windows where the sky was a swirling, poisonous green to the east. “Stay calm!” Cullen shouted. “Remain indoors until you receive further orders!” He turned to see Theo. “Inquisitor.” He wiped sweat off his brow.

“Is he here?” Cullen shook his head, and Theo felt a small measure of relief. In the moments between waking and right now, he’d wondered how they’d defend Skyhold against a siege from Corypheus without the whole army having yet returned. But now he wondered how they could meet the enemy without the army. “Have Samson brought to the war room. I’m calling a council, and we’re figuring this out.”

Cullen looked skeptical, but Theo just waved him off and headed for the war room. “Samson?” Dorian asked when they were away from the main throng. “You mean Corypheus’s general?”

Theo nodded. “I need you to trust me, Dorian. Now more than ever.” He reached out and squeezed Dorian’s shoulder, hoping to reassure him, even though Theo himself wasn’t sure about what he was doing. His mouth was dry and his right palm was sweaty; the pain in his left arm still throbbed, but it was bearable once more. He thought about what Bull had said about him never quite knowing what to do, and doing it anyway. He only hoped he could accomplish that now.

He was afraid of the alternative.

Cassandra was already in the war room talking with Leliana. She had dark circles under her eyes and her face was pasty. “Inquisitor,” she said in a slightly hoarse voice. “It is Corypheus. To the east, but we are not yet certain where…”

“The Valley of Sacred Ashes.” Morrigan strolled in as casual as ever, though she too looked tired. “I’ve had much time to process what I’ve gained from the Well of Sorrows, and the many thoughts of the past indicate a familiarity with Corypheus’s magic and where he may be.”

Theo’s head snapped up. “Get Solas,” he said suddenly.

Morrigan offered a sardonic grin. “Are you certain the elf will be willing to help you?” she asked. “He was not quite so forthcoming back at the temple.”

“Neither were you,” Theo reminded her, and her grin faded.

Leliana fetched Solas and arrived back with him at the same time Cullen brought Samson in. Solas only glared at Morrigan, who tried to ignore him; Samson leaned against a pillar, glancing around the spacious chamber. Eventually Vivienne, Varric, Josephine, and the Iron Bull trickled in. Everyone was quiet, ignoring one another. Theo wondered just what games they’d played with each other under his very nose, or when he’d been away.

“We’ll figure out who gets to be Divine later on,” he began, with a glance between Leliana and Cassandra, both of whom shrugged. Interestingly, it was Vivienne who looked away. That was new and interesting. “I have questions and they need honest answers, especially in light of this,” he said, holding up his crackling green palm. Traces of green light peeked through his scars, as if they were opening up again under the strength of the magic, and his veins seemed to glow green through his skin.

He turned to Solas. The elf had helped him more than once: from teaching him how to close the Breach and save himself, to showing the way to Skyhold. “Abelas said my mark was familiar to him,” Theo began. “What did he mean? I thought my mark, and what it could do, was something no one had ever seen before.”

“No one in this lifetime,” Solas answered. He sighed and closed his eyes. “You remember how the explosion at the Conclave occurred, yes?”

Theo winced. The memories of the Conclave explosion, as he’d seen in the Fade, proved it was his fault, but also that things would have been worse had he not intervened. He nodded.

“The orb you picked up… that was of elven origin. No one in this lifetime would know the source of the magic in your mark, but for Abelas, it was familiar.” Theo sighed. It would have been useful to have known all of this from the beginning, but now he wasn’t sure what good it would have done.

Cassandra slammed her open palm against a pillar. “Why must he keep defiling the Valley of Sacred Ashes?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. Leliana tried to comfort her, but Cassandra pushed her hand away. “No. That was Andraste’s resting place. It was defiled once when the Breach first happened; why would he not come meet us here? Is he such a coward?”

“I think you’ll find, dear Seeker, that most Tevinters are,” Dorian said softly. “We sit behind our borders and within our walls; we claim to be offended and talk a lovely game, but when it comes down to it, we’d rather the enemy come to us than attempt to meet them on their grounds.”

“As for the Valley, the fact that it _is_ sacred to Andrastians is why he’s chosen there again. And the Veil is thin there since the Conclave,” Vivienne said. “He goes where he may draw strength from the Fade, and where he may cause the most offense to the Inquisition.”

Theo nodded. “Cullen. How far out is the army?”

“Another three to five days.”

They didn’t have that kind of time. If Corypheus was showing himself now, they couldn’t wait. “Samson. What was the condition of the red templar forces?”

Everyone looked at the prisoner. Samson chuckled hoarsely. “Don’t be so surprised that I’m trying to help,” he said. “I have nothing to lose. The bulk of our forces was in Emprise du Lion, and your army made sure to wipe them out. What you faced in the Arbor Wilds was a relatively small contingent that was waiting to escort me to the temple. Your army probably outnumbered them, even if they couldn’t overpower them.” He looked around at everyone. “Corypheus probably has very few followers at his side right now. Though he still has his dragon,” he added.

“I’ll take on a dragon. Been waiting this entire time,” Bull said, pounding his fist into his open palm. He was the only one in the room smiling.

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Theo said.

“Inquisitor… what are you suggesting?” Josephine asked. Her quill trembled in her hand for the first time Theo could ever remember.

“I’m going out to meet him head on,” Theo said, standing straight and tall. He gazed around at his followers. His friends. “I won’t order anyone to come with me. But I’m leaving at dawn. A small force might not draw the attention of the dragon, and if the weather holds it shouldn’t be hard getting through the mountains.”

Dorian actually laughed, breaking the stunned silence. “If you think you’re going alone, that mark has finally affected your mind.”

Theo smiled. “Maybe it has. Do what you need to do, especially as far as choosing the Divine goes,” he added, looking at Leliana and Cassandra. “If our luck holds there will be some serious rebuilding to do.”

* * *

 

Before the sun had even risen Theo was riding out the main gate of Skyhold with Dorian, Bull, Varric, Cassandra, Solas, and Cullen. Vivienne remained behind with Leliana, who, along with Josephine, was preparing to send word to Val Royeaux—ideally in the best-case scenario. In the worst-case scenario, it would fall to Leliana to accept a position as Divine, and likely appoint Vivienne the overseer of any mage politics. Josephine would easily be able to prepare the Inquisition’s allies for any next steps, but there was one personal task Theo needed her to do.

“Write to Ostwick,” he said as she accompanied the party down to the stables, jotting down last instructions. “Tell my father that I’m sorry we didn’t see eye to eye. If… if the worst should happen, send it. If not…” He bit his lip as he worked to cinch his saddle.

“Inquisitor?” she prompted, hand on his arm. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were wishing for the worst,” she joked. “Why would a good outcome make you more fearful?”

“Because if I survive I’ll tell him myself,” Theo said, adjusting a stirrup. “And in that case, send for him. For my whole family. Why not,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

His thoughts of his family were a jumble in his head as he kept moving his gaze between the violent green sky and the road leading to it. The horses were jumpy and the terrain grew rough, and eventually they abandoned riding altogether less than a day out. He was nervous about losing time; but there was little else that could be done.

Morrigan had not joined them, and Theo was just as glad. As much as he was curious about what she knew, it just wasn’t worth worrying about if… or when she’d turn on them in battle. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he also had his doubts about Solas. What use could Corypheus find with an elven artifact, when he was from ancient Tevinter? Surely they’d had more powerful artifacts in the Imperium.

“The ancient elves predate the Imperium,” Dorian told him when they stopped to rest and he asked. “In fact much of what Tevinter learned of magic in its elder days came from the ancient elves of Arlathan.”

“Came from? You mean stolen,” Solas said from nearby. He stared at the new Breach to the east.

Theo sighed. “Stolen, borrowed… choose what term you want, but Corypheus shows an awful lot of interest in elven artifacts. The orb, the eluvians, the Well of Sorrows? He entered the Fade. What did the elves have that he didn’t?” He didn’t expect an answer from Solas, so he wasn’t terribly disappointed when none came.

They kept on until darkness fell and they could go no further, even under the bright green light in the sky. Camp was simple and uneasy; no one much felt like talking, and watch shifts were hastily arranged. Though he protested, no one let Theo take part. No one said it, but all it took was a glance at his brightly glowing hand to realize that it was likely he was the only one who would be able to defeat Corypheus. He needed all the rest he could get. It was ironic considering that, even with a glove on and his hand jammed under a pillow to cover the light, his mind was too preoccupied for him to sleep.

Dorian kept watch for a couple of hours and when he slipped into his bedroll next to Theo he held him close. “It may seem like doom upon the world, but it doesn’t have to be the end of all things,” he murmured. He kissed the back of Theo’s neck.

“Shouldn’t you be complaining about sleeping on the ground?” Theo asked, but he smiled and held Dorian’s hand against his chest. Dorian chuckled softly. It was still hard to sleep after that, but he felt a little better.

The next day brought them closer to the Valley of Sacred Ashes and the new devastation the enemy had caused. Massive red lyrium crystals jutted out of the mountainsides, as if a giant had grown tired of his toys and thrown them in a fit of pique. Cullen seemed visibly ill being around so much of the stuff in its raw form. “Once Andraste’s ashes were carried over these same peaks,” Cassandra mused. “And now this place is nothing but ash. Ashes and dust.” She spat and it sizzled off a red lyrium crystal.

“This isn’t the end of things, Seeker,” Varric said. “I’ve heard enough stories to know that things happen in cycles. Hell, I was in Kirkwall when the shit hit hardest. Yeah, the city’s a ruined heap, but it’s got potential,” he said with a chuckle.

“Potential to become Thedas’s biggest dung heap?” Dorian asked, but he was smiling.

They tried to remain jovial, but the closer they got to the Valley the more red lyrium sprang up, and the thinner the Veil felt. It was early on, but Cullen suggested camping once more before the terrain made safety impossible.

Even with watches set no one slept that night.

The morning’s trek brought them to the borders of the Valley of Sacred Ashes. The air crackled with the energy swirling above, and the giant red lyrium crystals on the ground. Theo’s entire left arm felt like it was breaking; but he gritted his teeth and tried to shake off the pain. A hot wind blew, stirring up the ashes and dust of the ruined mountain tops.

Overhead, a dragon screamed.

Dorian glanced over at Theo and took his hand. “I’m not saying goodbye, you know.”

The earth shook beneath their feet.

Theo squeezed.   “Neither am I.”


	35. As the Nemesis Begins

_Chapter 35: As the Nemesis Begins_

There was thunder, but no lightning. Too late Dorian realized it was because the red lyrium dragon had split the air with its sizzling breath. It was going to hurt. He knew this, and so he stood with his eyes squeezed shut awaiting the inevitable.

It never came. He hit the ground hard, still braced for an impact of dragon breath. He held his own breath until he thought his chest might burst. He exhaled and dared to open his eyes.

Theo knelt over him, protecting him, his left arm flung up and a strange shield of green light emanating from it. It covered them and deflected the dragon’s breath at a pile of rubble that exploded with the blast. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed deeply, and suddenly he let out a breath and collapsed atop Dorian. The shield held and the dragon screamed before circling away.

Dorian wrapped an arm around Theo’s shaking shoulders. “Looks like your mark would like to survive even more than you do,” he said, though his voice trembled. He’d seen things in the Inquisition that would send even the most hardened blood mage over the edge, but he’d never faced his own death quite like that. The way Theo had faced his death so often.

Theo rolled off of Dorian and caught his breath. He tried to smile and pushed his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “It’s good for something, I guess,” he said, trying to jest. He managed to sit up as the shield was fading. Cassandra and Cullen had dived away from the blast; Varric emerged from behind a red lyrium column. Bull was standing, searching the skies; it would not have surprised Dorian in the least if Bull had taken a hit from the dragon.

Dorian looked to the sky, but saw only swirling clouds and flashes of green light. It was dark, even though he knew it to be daytime. The ground shook beneath them again with an unnatural earthquake. When it passed Theo got to his feet and helped Dorian up. He looked around at everyone. “I’ve always been big on giving people choices,” he said, remarkably calm. “I’m going on; you don’t have to follow.”

“You are daft, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said with a smile.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Bull said. “Hey. Sorry, I couldn’t help translating,” he added when Cassandra and Cullen both gave him incredulous looks, while Varric just laughed and shook his head.

“Give me a moment then,” Theo said, attempting a smile before he turned to Dorian.

For a moment Dorian was afraid they’d have to have this same fight once more. He didn’t know how much more he could take Theo trying to push him away, trying to keep him out of danger. Especially now: he’d left Tevinter to try and make it better, and he had the chance to help take down an enemy straight out of the Imperium.

But Theo said nothing. He leaned in and rested his forehead gently against Dorian’s. He took Dorian’s hand in one of his; the other, he cupped against the back of Dorian’s neck. Dorian closed his eyes; if he ignored the acrid tang of fire and red lyrium in the air, it was like being back in Redcliffe just before that first kiss that was not quite a kiss, but broke down every wall he’d put up within himself.

“I’m with you. Until the end,” Dorian murmured, tilting his head and softly brushing his lips against Theo’s.

“Even if it means death?”

“Well, we either win or we don’t. Surrender isn’t an option,” Dorian said, opening his eyes and staring into Theo’s gaze. One last time he let himself admire the color green: not pale and acidic like the Breach, but verdant and lively like a forest. Peaceful. He kissed him once more. “We have an audience. We’d best be going.”

“No shame, Sparkler; hold on to the good things you have going for you,” Varric said as he passed. The dwarf held his crossbow out, ready for enemies, but aside from the sizzling lyrium and mournful winds, there was nothing; not even the dragon was in sight. Though Varric said it with his usual carefree tone, he seemed a bit sad in a way that had little to do with what they were about to face.

Dorian followed Theo up the hill, often using his staff to help him navigate the terrain. Sometimes Theo scrambled up a steep embankment, and always held out his hand to help Dorian up. Each time he crested another rise Dorian expected it to be the end, and yet they made it to the top and stood staring out at the ruined temple grounds. Overhead was the red dragon; but another slightly smaller, smoother dragon was fighting it, keeping its attentions off of their party.

Bull whistled long and low. “Will you look at that,” he said, staring up at the two shadows. “Shit. They’re coming down!”

Everyone scattered once again as the smaller dragon drove the larger one toward the ground, slamming the hulking creature into the stone.

Dorian readied his staff for an attack, but the smaller dragon was shimmering with waves of magic. He blinked and suddenly Morrigan stood before them. “The Well of Sorrows gives great power, even if bearing it is a great responsibility,” she said simply, as if she’d been at their side the whole time. “You were wise, Pavus, to discourage your love from drinking of the Well.”

Dorian didn’t know whether to thank her or blast her smug, smiling face into the Void.

But the red dragon was stirring. Bull screamed a warcry in Qunlat that sent a shudder up Dorian’s spine; Cassandra and Cullen echoed it with their own shouts, and Theo loosed an arrow. Then he was caught up in the dance of spell casting, pulling energy from the Fade and letting it flow through him. The Fade was easily accessible here, and the power that surged around and through him was nearly overwhelming.

The dragon beat its huge wings, stirring up a storm of hot wind and ashes that choked and blinded them. Dorian aimed his staff at one wing and called forth a crackling bolt of lightning that stunned the creature; Solas froze the other wing in place. Their eyes met over the dragon’s tail, and Dorian nodded. As Cassandra, Cullen, and Bull darted in and hacked at the beast, Theo and Varric shot at its limbs from a distance; and Dorian and Solas kept the wings immobilized the best they could.

An unearthly shriek split the air and left Dorian’s ears ringing. The dragon slumped over; Bull emerged from under the huge head, dripping dragon blood and howling victory; bits of skin and scale clung to his horns. His two-handed axe was completely red and he was smiling.

But it was not the dragon’s death screams; it was Corypheus, who now hovered in the gateway of the ruined temple, surveying his dead dragon while hatred and evil rolled off of him in waves. Theo stared him down, but Dorian felt those hard, hot eyes on him. Staring. Two faces of Tevinter, separated only by time.

Then Corypheus laughed. “There is no place for you in the new Imperium,” he shouted. “The old world will burn; the Imperium will rise anew, and pure!”

Dorian had felt many things about Tevinter: disappointment, disgust, sadness, hopelessness. But never anger. He remembered the destroyed future Corypheus would set in motion if he won. In that outcome, even the Venatori were no more than slaves to a mad god bent on power.

“I will be damned if I see your Tevinter rise,” Dorian said, and before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling at the Fade. The spirits of death came to his call, crossing the Veil easily and mobbing Corypheus. Dorian let the power flow through him, feeding on his anger. He glanced over at Theo. “You wanted him dead. Now is your chance.” Theo nodded once and took off, nocking an arrow as he went.

Corypheus roared and struggled with the Fade spirits. Then he raised his hand above the cloud of darkness. It sparked green and the new breach swirled and howled overhead. A pulse of energy emanated outward and the spirits dissipated and Dorian was knocked down. “Foolish, foolish mortal,” Corypheus growled, floating toward Dorian. Several of Theo’s arrows were lodged in his torso and neck.

Dorian reached for his staff but Corypheus reached down and grabbed him. His claws sunk through Dorian’s robes and into his chest, breaking bone and searing the very breath from his lungs. “You will be the first to die.” Corypheus’s breath was hot and foul and he began to squeeze.

The darkness of the Fade edged into Dorian’s vision. The spirits he’d tended through the years closed in around him—not an attack, but attending to him. He was going to die and they were there to receive him peacefully. It could be worse.

Dorian only hoped he’d distracted Corypheus long enough to allow Theo a fighting chance. He closed his eyes. Thought of Theo, of everything he was and would be. He smiled ever so slightly.

_Goodbye, Amatus.  
_

* * *

Theo watched the blood stain Dorian’s robes. Watched the violet mist of the Fade surround him, clinging to his limp limbs. Fired arrow after arrow into Corypheus’s back and skull until his quiver was empty and his bow useless.

His hand burned; his heart beat so fast he could barely breathe. Corypheus held his arm up once more and his hand crackled with green lightning. Had the monster, too, learned to absorb the mark of magic? Theo looked closer, trying to blink away the tears and dust and sweat blurring his vision. No. Corypheus held another orb.

He didn’t think. He held out his left hand and focused all of his rage into his pulsing green mark. It hurt but he welcomed the pain, pulling it into himself as he stared at the orb. The first time he’d taken in this amount of energy it had nearly killed him. It could kill him again, but so long as Corypheus was dead, what did it matter? Why bother living life without Dorian? Dorian had brought stability to his life.

The energy of Theo’s mark pulled at Corypheus’s orb. The monster whirled around, dropping Dorian like a bloodied ragdoll upon the rocks. His face was twisted with confusion and anger, and…was that fear in those burning eyes? Theo didn’t care. He stared at the orb, channeling everything he had into drawing it out of the enemy’s hand. His arm was on fire and he let the pain flow through him, pulling the orb from Corypheus’s claws.

Then green light enveloped him. The orb burned his palm, and Theo threw it into the air and sent a jet of light from his hand that blasted the orb up to the eddying breach in the sky. He’d closed a breach once before, with the aid of many mages behind him; now he only had himself and the power of the orb. He dug his heels into the scorched earth and braced his left arm with his right. The pressure crushed down on him but he maintained his footing.

A cyclone of hot air sucked at the red lyrium crystals around him; the power of the mineral hissed and sizzled up toward the eddy. Theo hoped everyone had taken cover; there would be no undoing this.

He remembered.

The conclave. Meeting Dorian, seeing the nightmare future. Closing the first breach. Adamant and the Fade, and the first time he and Dorian made love. His father. The failed Qunari alliance. Halamshiral and the Venatori, the ball and assassination attempt. The Well of Sorrows. And always Dorian was there with him, until now. Theo owed it to Dorian to make sure Corypheus never got his claws into the Imperium.

He cried out as the green light filled him. He gathered the power into one ball within himself and forced it through his arm and his hand. Corypheus shrieked as the cyclone of heated air, red lyrium, and sheer Fade energy took hold of him and blasted him upward into the sky as Theo let go of all the energy.

The sudden silence stunned him, and when he opened his eyes, the heavy dark clouds had disappeared and the sun was shining, but Theo felt none of it. He stared at his palm, now only faintly glowing, and sank to his knees.

He did not deserve this. It should have been him. It was always meant to be him.

He hadn’t said goodbye.


	36. Reconciliation

_Chapter 36: Reconciliation_

The initial impulse had been to celebrate the Inquisition’s success, but Theo ordered a hold on the festivities. He did not send for just his father: but for his entire family to come visit from Ostwick. He had a promise to himself that he had to make good on. The prospect of seeing his parents and siblings didn’t scare him the way it used to. He’d faced far worse, including the entire Orlesian court. He could handle his older siblings and their noble spouses, and even his nieces and nephews. He was actually looking forward to it.

He poured another glass of wine and sipped it before the fire in his room. Only Josephine came every so often to see to him or ask about another detail for the impending celebration, but she always stayed at the bottom of the stairs. Only servants and Fiona’s most talented healers came up regularly.

Leliana and Cassandra had gone to Val Royeaux, and word arrived that Cassandra had been named Divine Victoria; Leliana took her position as the Right Hand of the Divine, while Vivienne was named the Left Hand, as well as the overseer of mage politics. They had a long way to go in reforming the Chantry, but Theo did not doubt that Cassandra was up to the task. She had, after all, formed the Inquisition when no one else would follow her.

“Are you drinking without me again?”

Theo smiled and padded over to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress. “Would you like a bit?” he asked Dorian.

“Anything to wash away the dreadful taste of this healing potion,” Dorian said. His face was pale and his smile brittle; his eyes tired, but clear. His naked torso was bandaged, though some bruising showed around the edges. His hair was mussed up, his mustache askew, and he needed a proper shave, but he was the most beautiful man Theo had ever seen.

Theo had knelt there in the sudden silence after Corypheus’s defeat, wondering why it had to be Dorian, and not him. He’d stared at his hand through a growing film of burning tears, swallowing against the suffocating lump in his throat when Cullen shouted for him. “Theodane! He’s breathing! Barely, but he’s alive!”

Theo’s heart leapt into his throat and his mouth went dry as he stumbled over to Dorian. Cassandra and Cullen knelt beside him. His robes were torn and bloody, and he was losing a good deal of blood. Theo could see the white of his ribs and his stomach clenched. “There is a spirit of healing here,” Cassandra murmured, her hand hovering over Dorian’s body. “There may yet be a chance.”

It was Bull who, already covered in dried dragon’s blood, carried Dorian over the mountain passes back to Skyhold. They only stopped once to rest, and though they were all exhausted from the fight they maintained the brutal pace until Skyhold was in sight. Soldiers rode out to meet them and the horns blared a victory salute but Theo hardly heard any of it. He pushed through the cheering crowds, past a stunned Josephine and Leliana, and called for Vivienne and Fiona’s best healers.

It had been touch and go for a few days. Cole had mysteriously appeared, but he stayed near Theo and he smiled. “My friend is helping him,” he whispered as Theo stood at the foot of the bed, gnawing on his bruised knuckles. “The mage, she’s a spirit healer. Her spirit talks to my friend, the one who is with him.”

Theo knew Cole was only trying to help; but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

He spent nights curled into a nest of spare blankets and pillows by Dorian’s side. He did whatever the healers asked of him, and he even found himself praying to the Maker. He hadn’t done that in ages.

Then Dorian’s fever broke; the day after that the spirit healer smiled and said there was no blood or other fluids in his lungs. Another day after that and Dorian’s eyes opened slowly and it was all Theo could do to keep from gathering him up in a crushing embrace.

As Dorian grew a bit stronger and his injuries began to heal, Theo learned to change the bandages around his torso and chest. Just now he helped Dorian sit up. He handed over his glass of wine, and Dorian sipped at it before sighing. “Be gentle?” he asked with a slight grin.

“Always,” Theo said, unwinding the bandages. The bleeding had stopped; there was some sign of infection, but the healing potions were helping. The bruises were ugly, but would fade in time. It was the scarring left behind by Corypheus’s claws that was by far the worst. Dorian glanced down and sighed before averting his gaze. “Dor. Look at me,” Theo said softly. He cupped a hand to Dorian’s cheek. “They’re only scars.”

“You know what a vain creature I am,” Dorian said.

Theo rolled up his sleeve and rested Dorian’s hand over the twisted scar tissue on his arm. “You love me in spite of my scars. I can do no less for you.” He took a fresh roll of bandaging and gently wound it around Dorian’s chest. “You’re alive, which makes you the most ravishing man in all of Thedas.” He lightly kissed his forehead. Dorian actually smiled.

They took their meals quietly in the room. A few days later Josephine brought word that the Divine was en route from Val Royeaux, and word came that the Trevelyans were mere days out from Skyhold. Dorian’s strength was returning, and Theo was able to spend nights in bed with him again; though he clung to the edge of his side, fearful of accidentally hurting Dorian in his sleep. Now he knew how Dorian had felt all those times Theo himself had nearly died; how the mage had managed to remain so strong, he would never know. Even as Dorian healed, the fear of somehow losing him again ate away at Theo.

Josephine came to greet them a couple days later. “Inquisitor, your family has arrived. Dorian. You are looking far better than the last time I saw you,” she said, but her voice was teasing and her eyes sparkled.

“Yes, I will say that ‘bleeding to death red’ has never been a good color on me,” Dorian teased back. Theo had helped him shave, and he’d styled his hair and mustache. To anyone unfamiliar with what had happened, Dorian looked healthy; only Theo could see the slight pallor that still clung to him, and the way he tired easily. “Are you ready for your grand victory celebration?” Dorian asked. “It’s likely it will continue for weeks on end. You did literally save the world, after all.”

“As long as you’re with me I’m ready for anything,” Theo told him.

* * *

He thought it would be awkward seeing his family; he hadn’t seen his siblings since before the Conclave, and he’d left things on a sour note with his father. But his mother embraced him tightly, while Matthias’s daughters giggled and flitted about. “Father told me you supported the mages because of me,” Maranda said, gathering her youngest brother in a warm hug. “Between our ages and Circle politics, we were never able to be close, but I hope that changes,” she told him.

Gwyneth and her husband were expecting another child; her son kept staring at Theo with wide eyes. “I’ve offered to teach him the sword, but he’d rather take to the bow,” Gwyneth’s husband said with a laugh. “Your influence was quite far reaching.”

Theo chuckled as well. “I may have a few tips for him.” He clasped hands with Matthias next. “We’ll go to the tavern at some point when things have quieted down. Have a drink for Gave,” he said.

“He’d be proud of you,” Matthias said. “He always thought you could do a lot with yourself. I did too. I’m glad I have the chance to tell you that.”

Theo was glad that Dorian didn’t bring up the spider story to Thisbe; Theo recalled the incident, and what it had done to him in the Fade. But he’d been given a new chance at his life and his relationships with his family, so he pushed his old bitterness aside. “Good on you, little brother,” Thisbe said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Theo blushed and tried to fix it.

“It’s hopeless and you know it,” Dorian murmured, the first words he’d spoken. “I’ve long given up on him ever taming his hair,” he said more loudly with a nod of greeting to Thisbe. “Dorian, of House Pavus, formerly of Tevinter.”

“Dorian and I…” Theo began, but Thisbe was smiling.

“Father was telling us on the trip. How did _you_ manage to snag _him?”_ she asked, but her eyes were sparkling and she laughed. “Is there a final Trevelyan wedding in the future? Maker, please say yes!” she exclaimed, and even as he blushed and Dorian laughed Theo wondered why he’d let the bitterness of the past cling to him for so long.

Besides, he had spent so long thinking he had no future; now that he had one, his options were wide open. It was at once scary and completely freeing.

“I was wrong to meddle,” his father said when the initial excitement had calmed down and they sat quietly sipping Antivan brandy that Josephine had brought out. Even though there were plenty of servants around, she insisted on checking their drinks every so often; Theo had to smile, knowing she was eavesdropping. He even caught her grinning when she thought he wasn’t looking. “I’ve always thought about what I wanted for my family and my children. I wanted what was best. And perhaps what I thought was best… just wasn’t,” he said. He held out his hand in reconciliation, but Theo leaned out of his chair and hugged him. “This is… unexpected,” Bann Trevelyan said with a nervous laugh.

“With all the times I nearly died, I think it’s time for me to let go of pain and grudges,” Theo said. “We were all just trying to do what we thought best.”

More nobles arrived at Skyhold through the course of the day. Josephine and Theo greeted each with a smile. Dorian retired, opting to take a light dinner in the room. The night wore on and eventually Theo slipped away into the tavern where Bull and the Chargers were leading a raucous ballad. Theo grabbed a drink and joined in; the lyrics would make even a mercenary blush, but it was good to laugh after the formal proceedings of the afternoon.

“Shit, Boss, Corypheus? He was the Tevinterest Vint in the history of all Vints!” Bull said when the song had ended. It might have been Theo’s imagination, but Bull seemed… drunk. “And we kicked his fucking ass! And killed his fucking dragon!” More cheers; salutes with mugs, ale splashing over rosy faces and to the floor.

Theo drank more, but tried to keep from getting drunk. He wanted to remember this: the exuberance, the sense of true victory. The first steps toward rebuilding a brighter future.

Most of Skyhold slept while the tavern party raged on, and Theo slipped out into the night. The air was crisp and clean and there was no fear gnawing at him for the first time in well over a year.

He heard the sound of hooves clattering into the courtyard, and looked to see who’d arrived at this late hour. A stable hand took three horses while the riders kept to the shadows. Theo slid into the shadows himself, moving quietly through the soft grasses. The trio headed for a small door just off the stable yard, and he moved like a ghost to intercept them.

“Arriving a bit late, Most Holy?” he asked with a grin as he melted into the dim light of the stable yard. He ducked out of the way of Leliana’s flustered punch. “You have to admit, that was good. I never thought I’d get one up on you,” he told Leliana.

Cassandra removed her hood. She was not dressed in the fine vestments of her new office. Vivienne stood nearby, attempting to be disapproving, but failing. “Sister Nightingale, I’m afraid that won’t do,” she said, but she was trying not to smile.

“If the Inquisitor is the only one to whom I must yield, that is acceptable,” Leliana said with a shrug. But her eyes were shrewd, and Theo knew that there was little chance of catching her off-guard again.

“I must say. This is much different than our very first meeting,” Cassandra said. She smiled and her eyes sparkled in the dim lantern light. “When we first met I thought you would be the enemy; yet your support led me to this point. And I’d daresay we also share friendship as well.” She clasped Theo’s shoulder, warrior to warrior.

“Friendship with the Divine will prove useful,” Vivienne said.

“I suppose I am friends with the Divine,” Theo said. “But… I was friends with Cassandra first. I’d never have done nearly as much as I did without you behind me.” He embraced Cassandra, who clasped him back; after a moment Leliana joined in on the hug, and Vivienne merely huffed and looked away.

Theo led them through the back corridors of Skyhold to rooms that had been prepared for their visit, understanding their desire for privacy from the prying eyes of the many guests who’d come for the celebration. “Any word from Solas?” Theo asked Leliana before he left her for the night.

She shook her head. “I sent my little birds far and wide; it’s as if he’d just disappeared.”

Theo looked down at his hand. He would probably be so marked forever. While he was used to it now, he would have liked more time for Solas to explain more details. The elf had seemed despondent upon seeing the broken orb after Corypheus’s defeat, but unwilling to discuss it. He’d followed them listlessly, but in his anxiety over Dorian, Theo hadn’t realized it when Solas had simply slipped away.

He would have to be content with knowing that his mark would always be a mystery.

There would be a grand gathering tomorrow, the likes of which Skyhold had never seen. Divine Victoria would bless the Inquisition and its leader. It was rumored that even Empress Celene would appear, and if not her, at least Grand Duke Gaspard. And Theo was certain that Varric was already working on a book about everything they’d done.

But for now there was only one place he wanted to be. He slipped into his quarters and locked the doors behind him. He was surprised to see the warm orange glow of a fire in the hearth. “Thought you’d be asleep by now,” he said to Dorian as he entered the room.

“I dozed a bit.” Dorian lazed in the bed, propped up on several pillows. He’d unwound the bandaging from his chest. He gestured to the space beside him. Theo grinned and pulled off his shirt as he went, and slipped onto the bed beside Dorian. “You know, when I first left Tevinter I had no idea where I was headed. Even when the first breach happened I didn’t know why I was here, or what I was meant to do.”

Theo gingerly wrapped his arm around Dorian’s shoulders. Dorian leaned into him, barely wincing at the movement. It felt good to hold Dorian again, even if he felt the need to be tentative. “That makes two of us,” Theo said with a smile. “I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I think I have a good start.”

“We’ve both come a long way, haven’t we,” Dorian said, lacing his fingers with Theo’s.

Theo smiled and kissed Dorian’s forehead. “I’d say that’s a bit of an understatement.”

There would be parties and speeches and ceremonies starting practically at dawn, if Josephine had anything to say about the schedule; but tonight it was just the two of them, alone with a fire crackling in the hearth. Theo had been the unwanted third son who became the first Inquisitor in centuries; he’d managed to bring peace, even if it wasn’t perfect. But tonight he was just Theo Trevelyan: in love with, and loved by Dorian Pavus. And in spite of all he’d done and all he’d become, that was more than enough.

_The End_


End file.
